Still high. Typing this on a phone that says “Battery: ∞.” The second acrobatic isn’t a trick — it’s a permission slip. Q left me a note: “You failed the first acrobatic because you tried to land. The second? You never even touched the ground.”
Tried to cartwheel across a 2D floor. Failed. Landed in a pixel gutter. Heard Hussie’s voice (or a voice like his) whisper: “You’re thinking in three dimensions, idiot. An acrobatic second requires forgetting gravity was ever invented.”
The call came through the old MSPA forums’ dead chat. A single letter: “Q.” No, not the conspiracy Q. The Q. The one who used to animate the unanimate in late-night Flash games. Q promised a “second acrobatic revolution” — the first being the impossible pirouettes of problem sleuths. Tonight was the second. HussiePass 24 06 14 Shrooms Q An Acrobatic 2nd ...
If this was meant to reference something real (an obscure indie game, a fanfic, a LARP event), let me know — I can adjust the tone to match actual source material. Otherwise, treat the above as a psychedelic micro-fiction born from your tags.
Came down hard. Broke a coffee table that wasn’t there before. The HussiePass melted into a puddle of 2009-era GIFs. Q bowed, then faded into a panel of John Egbert doing a sick kickflip on a pogo hammer. Still high
June 14, 2024 Location: The Q-Drop Theater, abandoned 3rd mezzanine, Portland State: Light psilocybin (1.5g, Golden Teachers), one hit of a Q-brand vape pen (unknown synthetic, probably DMT-adjacent)
The room became a flipbook. Every blink advanced the page. Q was no longer human but a striding chess piece with a top hat. We were to perform “The Second Acrobatic” — a legendary maneuver mentioned only in a deleted Formspring answer: “First acrobatic: juggle time. Second acrobatic: become the juggled.” The second
Shrooms chewed slow, bitter. Q handed me a pass: laminated, rainbow-hologram, read “HussiePass 24 06 14.” Said it lets you step between panels. Not into the comic. Between them. The gutters.
Q applauded in reverse (sound going inward). The shrooms showed me the truth: Your first try is your birth. Your second try is any moment you choose to move differently than your programming allows.
It sounds like you’re referencing a very specific, surreal, and likely fictional event log or trip report — perhaps a blend of Homestuck fandom (“Hussie” = Andrew Hussie), a date (June 14, 2024), a substance (“Shrooms”), a cryptic initial (“Q”), and an acrobatic performance (“An Acrobatic 2nd…”). Since this isn’t a known public record, I’ll craft a from those keywords, as if it were a recovered journal entry or underground performance art piece. Title: HussiePass 24 06 14 – Shrooms, Q, and An Acrobatic 2nd Attempt