“Oh great guru, I have come to you seeking the perfect high.”
“You come to a guru seeking the perfect high? Fifty years on this mountain, the first time I ever hear this question. But I tell you, the perfect high is within you. Strive to live in harmony with nature and with your fellow man, and try to achieve something, doesn’t have to be anything great, maybe a painting or a piece of music, something created from your soul. That, my son, will get you the high you are seeking.”
“Look, old man, I didn’t spend all this time climbing this damn mountain to hear this bullshit. Now you tell me how to get the perfect high, or I’ll throw you off this goddamn mountain.”
“Alright, I’ll tell you how to get the perfect high. Climb back down the mountain, follow the river fifty miles east, not one foot more, not one inch less. There you will see a tree with red leaves and purple blossoms. It produces fruit once every fifty years, and lucky you, this is a year that it produces fruit. You take the fruit from the tree, lay it on the ground, let it dry in the sun for three days. Eat it in two days, you’ll die, eat it in four, you’ll just get the shits, but if you eat the fruit on the third day, that will get you the perfect high.”
So the guy climbs back down the mountain and does as the guru instructed. Guru looks to the sky.
“So I lied. What could I do, he wouldn’t accept the truth.”