“Okay, dude. One time, I was so high that I tried to walk my hamster. I live on the sixth floor of my apartment building and I just threw him off the side. But then, after realizing my mistake, I thought ‘I forgot to put his leash on’.’’ Abraham, the local dread wearing, cannabis sock print loser chuckled as he picked up his bag of chemistry books. And botany. Man, I would love to see this guy’s closet.
Behind them, the busy cafeteria of a major university clapped and rang around them. I looked over to their table and gave them a grimace that went unseen, but continued to listen in. They were smart kids, I had one of them in my Calculus class. So, they weren’t complete idiots. Sober. With drugs inhibiting them, they did some stupid stuff. Now, here are their stories.
“But, brotein shake, I have a better story,” Luke started. Luke was the kind of guy that no one invites to their christmas party because he brings a backpack of booze everywhere and tries to kiss his cousin. “So, one time, on shrooms. Like, Mario and Luigi based stuff, I went to Mal-Wart. I got lost for six hours and passed out on the aisle with all the detergents. A lady named Sally told me I had to leave,” He finished, the corners of his mouth stretching like the Grinch. Except, the Grinch didn’t indulge in the devil’s lettuce, he just stole Christmas presents from children.
  The next guy is a real character, based off someone from my later high school years. He prances around wearing his cowboy boots with lame shorts and big diamond earrings that look like they were from the crane games at your local supermarket that I am not going to include in this article because I don’t want to get copyrighted and sent to jail for 100 years. I don’t look good in horizontal stripes. Anyway, the next guy is Jerry. He leans back and picks up his water bottle. “I have a story that tops all your guyseses’s stories. I was sitting there in the parking lot of Baco Tell.” He stopped, leaning back in his chair with raised eyebrows that were lifted like a car with a flat that no one had a spare tire for. “I had pulled out my phone and typed out ‘Dude, I just smoked a whole bag of funky cabbage and I need to borrow six dollars for some tacos’. All was good until I got a call from my Mom and boy was she mad. She threatened to rip me a new one and feed my Xbox to the turtles in our pond,” Jerry contributed. 
This pattern continues, all of the original guys (with some onlookers that popped in with their own stories, some of them too short to mention) guys going around boasting about their dappling with illegal substances. Gerald is sitting here with the ultimate story in his throat. “So, the story that will get all of yours to go home and cry is mine. It all started with a good episode of Teletubbies and a whole lot of tears and emotionless staring at a black screen.” He took a sip of water and looked down in shame. “I was sitting there. I had been scrolling through the guide on my cable provider for about half an hour when I saw it, the ugly demon creatures with the screens on their tummies and the oddest things on their heads. It looked like one of those pens you find in the darkest part of your local dollar store. I decide that I’m watching this until the show ends. I looked down at my stomach and saw nothing, but my stomach skin and cried because I just wanted a skin screen to be able to watch things. So, I sat down and stared at the screen and cried because I will never be able to have the creepy feature five grown men in costumes did.”
This got all the guys to laughing and holding their stomachs in the mild discomfort that comes with enjoying a good laugh. Gerald watched them and puffed his chest out like a bag of popcorn. “Hey! You didn’t laugh at the stories that other guys said!” G-Unit said, glee dripping from his words. He crossed his hairy arms and opened his water, dousing the others in a clear shower. “I am going to go get ready for my next class.”
  I honestly think all people who boast about their drug experiences need to stop and go to an Addict Assembly meeting, or lay down on the floor and truly think about they are doing. I have gone through a hallway about 11 feet in width and listened to stoners boast about how they are ruining their insides with things that could probably damage your brain permanently like putting it through a blender. It's upsetting to think that by the age of eighteen these dweebs had lungs coated with black crayon-like substance. It makes me want to not sit in the cafeteria and eat my lunch.