Then, all of the sudden, something rose from the ground. It was a strange creature. Its head looked like a mushroom, but with lots of the letter y on it. Electric currents flew everywhere, as did Red Bull and Bazookas autographed by various members of the rap community. It was Dirigiyem. But then, he sang. He sang a tune for times. He sang so beautifully that the man fell into a limbo of color and beauty, where he could taste sound and touch smell. He flew above mountains, he was high in the sky. Circular birds flew by with bright orange wings. But then, there was a passage. A passage of much color. He swam through it, and on the other side, his ears smoked and green eyebrows hung themselves on ropes made out of flames. All the sudden, he was a liquid that turned into many solids of himself. And when he was himself, he knew that he truly was.
And then Dirigiyem stopped singing. He woke up on the dirty tile floor of a Super 8 motel with foam and blood all over his face. He ran out of the room and realized that he had no idea where he was. He ran along the balcony, trying to find something he knew, something that was familiar to him. He ran screaming along the balcony. Dozens of strange people walked out of their rooms, wondering what was happening. Then, they see this man, with blood and foam all over his face, standing on a hotel balcony, wearing only his underpants. And then he stepped back too far and went straight over the railing. That man fell forty-six feet. And just before he landed, he saw something he knew.
His brand new car.
He smashed onto the car. His head went straight through the windsheild and he got the necklace of death. His blood stained the windows, hood, and windsheild of the car as his body fell from atop it. The man was dead.
And that's why you don't do drugs, kids!