Toking and Choking
Back in the primordial mists of time, when I was still a wacky and zany student, a disproportionately large part of my time was devoted not to the intellectual pursuit of study, but the significantly less noble aim of getting as stoned out of my gourd as humanly possible.

On one of many such mind-expanding excursions, a friend of mine inadvertently stumbled across some particularly lethal skunk, which had the unexpected side-effect of making every partaker of said lethal substance the unwitting recipient of uncontrollable manic laughter.

All it took was one of us to erupt in convulsions of hysterical giggling, and within seconds a room of eight post-adolescent cosmonauts were reduced to quivering mounds of hydroponic jelly.

I must confess, for the first five minutes, this was all rather spiffing good fun, until one of my similarly intoxicated pals started pointing at me and began exclaiming “Oh my god, look at him go, look at him go, he’s turning green!”

This rejoinder was soon taken up by every other member of the group. Whether or not I had quite literally turned green, to this day I know not, but nevertheless the power of auto-suggestion began to weave its insidious spell upon me, and I rapidly began to feel decidedly queasy.

My hysterical laughter rapidly began to degenerate into fits of coughing, choking and finally, retching.

This rapidly broke the spell of hysteria which had hitherto swathed the room. One by one, my friends ceased their manic laughter to watch the curious spectacle unfold.

Just as the first gobbet of vomit appeared through my pursed lips, miraculously, as if from nowhere, an empty cereal bowl appeared in the hand of my best friend’s girlfriend, the only occupant of the room who had prudently chosen to remain unstoned.

The group watched, rapt with attention, as I serenely proceeded to fill the cereal bowl with lumpy puke the colour and consistency of cold Ready Brek.

As if by magic, my spontaneous fit of regurgitation ceased just as the vomit began lapping the very upper rim of the bowl, filling it completely.

After a few seconds of complete silence which seemed like an eternity, the entire room burst into a round of warm applause, as I took a round of solemn bows, with clumps of soggy vomit clinging stubbornly to my Shaggy-from-Scooby-Doo length goatee, to enthusiastic cheers of “Beard! Beard! Look at the beard!”

I’ve been clean shaven ever since.
(tricyclic_looper, Wed 13 Jan 2010, 14:04, Reply)