Think of a regular energy drink, Redbull, Monster, Rockstar, etc.. now remove anything they put in to make it taste remotely palatable. If you're thinking of those B12 “8 hour energy drinks”, in those little bottles, no. Right size, wrong contents. THOSE try to pretend to be healthy. The suckers I had been downing, (and wearing on my bandolier) were just good ole' toxins. Taurine, and all his little buddies.
It might have had something to do with how much sleep I got.
Protip: Bet on black. Or, avoid all of these if you plan to.. you know.. not wreck yourself.
But no worries, this was VCON, and that's my standard operating procedure for VCON. As I sat up, I made an “ohhh” groan. It wasn't my voice.
It was Morgan.
Good morning, Joseph. I was watching you sleep.
Between damage done to my throat, the amount of sleep I didn't have, the alignment of the planets, whatever, I had trapped part of Morgan Freeman's essence within myself. Alone in the room, I spoke.. Yup It was Morgan.
I talked to myself continuously as I got dressed, musing how this happened, and hoping the real Morgan was all right, and not in some kind of coma. Of course, I later learned that he did not die, at least.
Once I had myself put together, I did a practice read of a short story I was going to do a public reading of later in the day. Morgan NAILED it. I seriously considered having Morgan to the reading when the time came, but by early afternoon, Morgan had pretty much left me.
I used to occasionally do a Morgan Freeman impression. It was recognizable, but not great. I can't sound like I did that morning any more, Morgan has returned to his own body, but he left me with a lesson or two-
My Morgan Freeman impression has improved, and I have a second celebrity to think of when I have to slow down a public reading. Johnny Cash could use some time off.
To play with his kitten in heaven, or something, I guess.