Killer Weed
I had this rather lovely lump of black bequeathed to me by a mate who was going abroad for a while and thought it best not to risk taking it through customs. I sat down in front of the telly to watch a bit of footie and get quite merrily caned, when it suddenly dawned on me – I had given up the fags a few weeks previously and didnt fancy smoking the stuff in case I got hooked on the evil nicotine again. No problem! I decided to eat the fucker instead of smoking it. Proceeded to munch my way quite merrily through a yogurt topped up with crumbled – up goodness.

Nothing happened. Half time in the footie came and went and all I had was a rather bad taste in my gob.

A little while later, it kicked in and it felt like I’d been kicked in the head by a troop of angry unicorns. I was hallucinating to buggery.

Missed a day off work on account of thinking that my flat was alive and trying to attack me. Not much fun at all, I can tell ya. Went in the day after and my boss, a bank manager no less as I was selling mortgages at the time, asked me if I was feeling any better after the telephone conversation we had had the previous day.

I have absolutely no recollection of phoning in sick. I was too damn ill to remember something like that. The boss made me sit in a quiet room filing papers for a week until he felt he could trust me to be round people again. Happy days.
( SpankyHanky, Mon 12 Jun 2006, 14:57, Reply)