Never had a thumb print go wrong until the last one ...
My group had gotten out of the scene for a variety of reasons. One of that group had been saving a particular jar where he'd been storing his crystal in for years. He had to leave the country (again for a variety of reasons), and he also owed rent, so the jar was my present.
We'd already been up all night on some beautiful MDMA (it's always nice when you can see the imprints of the glass ware on the sides of your stash) and 2C-B (everyone's favorite combination) partying for my birthday. It was nearing 9am, when two more friends got off from work. It was time to either come down with some Ketamine, or take it up a notch. The friend who had arrived had always wanted to print, so it seemed like as good a time as anyway.
The group was generally pretty hard heads: 500mcg of LSD being the standard party dosage, so we weren't too worried, so out came the jar.
The lady of the new arrival opted to stick with MDMA and 2C-B, but the other five of us decided to print.
I explained how to go about this and about how much you wanted to do. Myself and three followed the instructions well. Lick your pinkie tip, press into the jar, apply to tongue. The fifth one, well, he didn't listen.
Maybe he was too fucked up already to follow directions, maybe he was greedy, maybe he figured he could handle it, or maybe he took thumb printing too literally.
Before I could say anything, he licked his thumb, and scooped in hard. You could see his finger sparkling as it went in his thumb. Well hopefully this will go ok.
It did for the most part. Nice sunny day (about 10am by now), and he spent a while acting like an airplane slowly wooshing around the backyard. We just kept our party going inside, checking out the window occasionally to make sure he was still on that plane (pun intended.)
Well, after a few hours, he just stopped in place and stayed that way for an hour. Well, it was starting to get dark and drizzle, so it seemed like maybe we should get him inside. Unfortunately, his muscles had completely locked up. He just couldn't move. People would try to lift him and he would whimper in pain.
Well, it was time for my special ability to save the day.
I know how to hug people.
I would embrace him tightly and lovingly. He would let out a little whimper of pleasure and all his muscles would relax (they had all been completely tensed up unmoving for an hour now.) I could then move him about five feet before he would lock up again. Then I'd hug him again and he'd melt. Took about an hour to hug melt him back into the house.
When he finally got in, he sat upright on the edge of the couch, like the last inch of the couch. No movement, no nothing, but we figured it would wear off within 48 hours, so we weren't too worried.
Then it happened. He stood up with urgency, And made a move for one of the doors in the house. Now we always like to joke that our bathroom is "back and to the left" ... which it is from front door. However, from his location, "back and to the left" was my bedroom.
I ran after him, but the dick was already out and he'd started to piss on my bed. I grabbed him and spun him, avoiding the electronic equipment and dodging the stream.
He finished and I zipped him up. I tried to get him to a good place, but he passed out immediately in the puddle of piss he had created on my bed, and slept in it, all snuggled up for the next 12 hours. My saint of a wife cleaned up the floor and door piss (while on a good miligram or two of LSD herself.)
His muscles and body were fucked up for the next few weeks, and he couldn't sleep more than an hour or two a night during that period.
I felt bad, so I gave him as much xanax and morphine as he could eat over the next few weeks while his body returned to normal. He still couldn't sleep too well, but at least he was a bit more comfortable.
No real permanent effects, or at least he was always enough a spacey hippie that nothing seemed to be out of the usual.