Creative is a test

I knew I should have packed lunch; the journey was long.  Had stopped cycling to rest a while, in a wooded glade. The mushrooms caught my eye. Was no bush tucker but these looked relatively safe, and my stomach growled in stern agreement. They tasted bitter, with rich earthy undertones, well... not enough to quell my hunger, but enough to temper the bubbling yearn. Hopped back onto my rusty metal steed, pedaling comfortably through the warm afternoon air. Suddenly, I sensed something not quite right up ahead. The path seemed just to... end. So I skidded to a halt, sending fine clay dust over the sheer edge. I began to suspect that those were no ordinary mushrooms. The path dropped, a sheer 90 degree wall, about fifty feet below. What now? There's no way this could be real, surely, could it?  Was I to wait there until the psychotropic effects wore off?  What if I just ignored the illusion? Kept cycling? If I fell off a shroom-cliff in my mind, will I die in real life? No. I couldn't wait. If I was late home for dinner again she'd think I'm up to something. Okay, it's gotta be in the mind - mind over matter. I wheeled the bike back a good few feet. Needed to get some momentum going before I hit the edge. Leg slung over, ass on seat.  "Here goes nothing!"

Then... just then I realised I was in a poorly photoshopped picture