Stick Your Nose In
The Camels' Tent

Occupying as it does an extra-dimensional plane of reality, contemporary terrestrial laws against the use of recreational intoxicants do not apply at Circe's Funhouse. (And until the day these laws are changed, all visitors to this website are firmly urged the eschew the use of any such substance(s) in their quotidian lives!) In fact, Circe finds them quite useful in luring susceptible types into the pavilions where uninhibted indulgence will transform them into their appropriate new forms.

Take this hirsuit gentleman, for example. An appetite for thick, black, rich Mongolian hasheesh brings him into a dark and smoky yurt, where to the strains of far-off yoochins and limbes, a shaggy pack of bactrian camels are gathered around a multi-hosed, six-foot tall hookah, silently enjoying its contents. Without a sound (save the hookah's constant liquid gurglings) the circle of animals shuffle apart and open a wedge-shaped path for their visitor. He reaches the one unused hose hanging just below the hookah's massive bowl, where an enormous chunk of hasheesh slowly smolders.

Already somewhat addled by the tent's redolent atmosphere, the newcomer lifts up the hose. Although covered in an ornate weave of gold, green and brown fabric, it is roughly the thickness and weight of the hose on a gasoline pump; wiping its brass nozzle clean of camel saliva on the leg of his jeans, the visitor cannot resist a jest: "Fill 'er up!" he announces with a guffaw to the huge, bi-humped animals surrounding him. Are their sly, smirking smiles in response to his joke or merely inherent to their species' physiognomy - or do they perhaps know something their guest is as yet unaware of? In any event, he raises the nozzle to his mouth, inhales, and proceeds to join them - in more ways than one…

His metamorphosis proceeds apace
"What are you laughing at?"

"Oh boy - hash!"
Another Phunhouse Photomorph!

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