It was 1998. I was 18.
I was extremely stoned, and waiting for my bus. I was paranoid; every pedestrian walking past could see my red eyes, white face and idiotic grin. They could smell the low grade hashish I was carrying, and they were laughing about it. Yeah, and the people driving past? They were on their way to the police station to report me.

My bus pulled up, I got on board. I asked the driver for a return to Aberdeen.

'Are you a fool?' he asked me.

I was stunned. He knew. He was going to either harangue me about the stultifying effects of cannabis resin, or he was going to somehow contact the police.

'What?' I stammered.

'Are you a fool?' he repeated. Was I on the wrong bus? I was! I must be! Why else would this man be asking me if I was a fool? I was a fool! It was the wrong bus! It wasn't though, I saw the number. It's the right one, so what's he getting at?

'What?' I asked again. I was adrift on a floating island of confusion.

'Are you a full fare, or a half fare?' he barked out.

'Adult fare!' I replied, then realised that I had just answered the question he hadn't asked, and I was in fact, a very stoned fool.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Mon 25 Mar 2013, 0:05, 1 reply)

Brilliant
*clickety*
(McChinaman banned, Mon 25 Mar 2013, 14:13, closed)