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Sorry About All That “Month Week” Stuff, We Got Our Hands On Some Fire Acid And Just Kinda Went Nuts


doily on acid

So, if you’ve been keeping up with The Doily Allergen for the past week, you’re probably a little confused. Sorry about that, all the “Month Week” stuff. It’s just that we got our hands on some fucking fire acid—shit hit like like a freight train. You seriously have no idea. We each only took one and all of the sudden we’re. . . well, you’ll see.

We were all trying to keep it cool and play some Jenga at Kyle’s place, when staff writer Armand Cantu suddenly grabbed a nearby fork and carved the words “MONTH WEEK” into the kitchen drywall.

I was convinced that’d be the weirdest thing to happen, but just then Alex Ohlson went, “Fuck. Someone’s trying to steal the moon,” as he stared into the kitchen sink. We kept asking him who was trying to steal the moon. His only reply was “Munthwík. Konrad E.P. Munthwík,” which didn’t really clear anything up. Ohlson refused to elaborate, saying things like “snitches get stitches” and “this Munthwík guy is one hell of a boxer. Just look at his shorts.” Fucking wild.

I’m pretty sure that’s when Kit Fitzgerald said “starving” really fast ten times in a row, then grabbed Kyle’s toaster oven and ran off with it. Like, Jesus. It’s just not how we planned this night to go at all.

Armand seemed to be doing better now. We asked him why he carved “Month Week” into the wall, and he began rattling off memorable lines from Toy Story 2. Armand was not doing better.

At that point me, Cassie, and Kyle decided that it might be best to go find Kit. Unfortunately, Cassie also decided that it might be best to “not do that, not do that at all,” and begin rifling through Kyle’s DVD collection in search of something that could “get the taste of April out of her mouth.”


Yikes. So now it’s just me and Kyle. We’re both hearing the color red pretty hard, and need to clear our heads. “Dude, go get a white board,” I said. Kyle returned with six. Then he starts to manically scrawl symbols and complex math equations on them because it will “optimize this whole month week operation” and I’m like, fucking hell. I just wanted to trip and play Jenga.


The only thing you can really get from looking at this is that acid Kyle took was super fucking potent

But at the moment—and again, I stress that this acid was fucking fire—I realized that I, Joe Wellman, must be the true reincarnation of Konrad E.P. Munthwík, having felt it when I touched my ears really hard. It was insane. I tried to tell Alex, but instead just went over and stood by him and said absolutely nothing. I think I ate a whole box of Fruity Pebbles somewhere in there.

Anyway, Kit, who had returned to the living room at some point, spent the next forty-five minutes hiding under a blanket with Kyle’s toaster oven, listing out her ideas for some kind of “Month Week Carnival.”

“There will be a big pile of calendars, and then we’ll light it on fire. A Freak show! A big, round ferris wheel! You understand, don’t you? Promise you won’t tell anyone else. They just wouldn’t get it. We’re the only sane ones in this world, don’t you think?” Kyle wrote down pretty much everything she said.

Shit went on like this for, no lie, an entire week. And somehow we managed to write, edit, and publish six fucking articles on the website. Impressive if I do say so myself. But still, we get that some all of you may have been confused by our week-long stream of Month Week nonsense. We understand that confusion more than you can ever comprehend, so from the bottom of our hearts, our b.

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