It could have been worse. His apparent Vicodin high could have transported him outside of Space Mountain at Disney World and he could have had Mickey Mouse ears on his head. Not nearly as sexy as the cap he had on now, which had the image of a dinosaur skeleton centered above the bill and the name of the attraction around it. Actually, it was kind of cool. Cool in the sense that only House could pull off wearing it without looking like a total loser. Although, the fact that a lot of real losers around him were wearing the same hat sort of ruined the whole hip crippled guy with the cheesy hat thing he was going for.
But that didn't stop him from taking it off. Either this was real and he was actually in California viewing an attraction he hadn't seen since he was ten, or this was an hallucination and he was actually passed out on the floor of Exam Room One. If it was reality, he had little fear of running into anyone he knew and having his reputation discredited because of his lack of style. If it was an hallucination, then he was riding the high for as long as it would let him.
It would be so cool if a T-Rex rose out of the pits right now and ate a small child.
An idle thought. House wasn't exactly known for being sympathetic. Creative, on the other hand, well, sometimes he could be too creative.
And sometimes people bled out of their eyeballs. Unfortunately, none of that was happening in his hallucination. Maybe he needed to take another Vicodin. Color up this picture a little bit.
Or maybe he just needed to purchase himself an imaginary cotton candy. Mm. Good stuff. Like when he and Cameron went to that Monster Truck show. His cotton candy had been delicious. Hers had been too. Ah, yes. House with his sweet tooth. His only weakness, honest. Right.
But maybe eating in a dream wasn't such a good idea.
"So when's the fireworks display already?! Come on! Are we just supposed to stand around and stare at bubbling black stuff all day?"
Come on, drugs. Kick it up a notch! Emeril style! Give me something good!
It was just too normal. Why wasn't the sky swirling in tie-dyed coloring? And the world moving like a waterbed? And why wasn't he floating? He was still limping around with his damn cane. Why wasn't his hallucination being nice to him and letting him fly about?
Well, it could be worse. It could have been a bad acid trip instead of a Vicodin high. And he could have thought that he was an orange. And then he could have tried to peel himself.