Picture this: You awaken suddenly in a cold sweat within a hazy, humid hut. It is dark and you cannot remember the last time you spoke (it was yesterday). Your shaman and spiritual guide (his name is Pat) finishes chanting with his woo-woo stick as your astral projection begins to cease, and you are suddenly reunited with your body in a daze. “That was some intense ayahuasca.” (Pat doesn’t have the heart to tell you that you merely swallowed chewing tobacco)
“I’m sorry to bring you back, Mr. Rodgers, but I have a Joe Douglas on the phone for you.