At this point, I quietly pulled the keys from Morgan’s ignition. Whatever had been in those brownies, it was hitting like a psilocybin hammer.

“Can you believe this?” Morgan was shouting, having staggered to the roadside and gesturing at a nearby park.

“What is it?” I said, trotting over. “Do you need to throw up?”

Morgan was gesturing wildly at a large tree nearby. “Did you see it? It ran out in front of my car and then up the tree!”

I looked up at the boughs, seeing absolutely nothing but ragged late-season foliage. “What?”

“That squirrel! I almost hit it with my car!” Morgan sounded on the verge of tears, voice catching in throat.

“Well, uh, if you almost hit it, I’m sure it’s fine,” I replied.

“You don’t understand!” wailed Morgan. “It was Chickersnit, resplendent lord of all squirrels! By almost hitting him, I have incurred his wrath, and that of all his kind!”

I cocked my head involuntarily. “What…the hell, Morgan?”

Morgan was desperately scooping up acorns from a shrimpy oak up the hill. “I need to give him an offering, or rodents will attack me in my sleep!”

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