Page 151 of Shroom for Improvement

I scooted over to where Claude had folded himself, lying prostrate next to the stone. It looked like he was praying—was, in fact, praying.

“Please work. Please work,” I repeated under my breath.

And we waited a little longer.

The morning was hushed. So quiet. Even the birds seemed to pause their song, as though they were holding their breaths as well.

Still nothing. Two, three minutes ticked by and Claude was silent. Tears popped at the corners of his eyes.

Fuck, it hadn’t worked.

I needed to say something. To let him know that I’d always be here for him, with him. That this didn’t change anything between us. I loved him. And I would choose him every time.

“Claude, I—”

“Look!”

A flower sprouted at the edge of the tablet. A daisy. Pink-tinged petals opened all at once like they did on time-lapse videos. I gasped, reached a hand over and grabbed Claude’s bicep.

Another erupted right next to the first. Then a buttercup on the other side of the stone. Then another and another, until the ground beneath our feet was transforming into a carpet of rainbow wildflowers.

Poppies and primrose and anemones and cornflowers. Cow parsley, bluebells, milkwort, hellebores, echinacea, crocuses. Half of these weren’t even supposed to be flowering at this time of year. Shooting up around us like fireworks were agapanthus, alliums, foxgloves, and verbena.

And mushrooms everywhere—between clumps of flowers, in fairy rings in the grass, and some as tall as me. Fly agaric and inkcaps and puffballs and chanterelles in every colour available and, of course, stinkhorns.

Stinkhorns galore.

They spread across the paddock in waves. Like stacks of dominos being pushed over, but in reverse. When they reached the hedgerows, blackberries and raspberries erupted, and the birds turned their silent mourning into a dawn chorus so loud it could lift roofs off rafters.

It was wild, in every sense of the word. An explosion of senses—sight, sound, smell.

“I think it worked,” I said, as a liberty cap nudged its way into existence right next to my baby toe.

But Claude was on top of me already, kissing me into the bed of flowers, not giving an iota of shit that my cum was now squishing onto his belly.

He paused... pushed a gap between us and smiled. “It’s back,” he whispered. And then he yelled, “Good morning, Jenny! It’s wonderful to have you here again.”

The Legend of the Stinkhorn Mushroom

Claude

“I’M ALIVE! I’M ALIVE!” Jenny screamed.

I smiled against Sonny’s kiss. “It’s back,” I told him before lifting my head and yelling. “Good morning, Jenny! It’s wonderful to have you here again.”

Sonny grinned up at me, watching me talk to the house.

“You saved me! Claude, you saved me!” Even though Jenny didn’t have a face or a mouth, I could tell the house was smiling. I heard it in its voice.

“I did.”

“You figured it out on your own. You’re so smart,” it crooned.

“No, I didn’t, actually. The Earth Bells... showed me. Sonny figured it out on his own, though.”

He trailed his thumb over my jaw.

“Because Sonny is a doctor. He is very, very clever, and handsome, and incredible, and I’m still not sure what the wee-wee obsession is all about, but hey ho. He’s the best.”

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