Club toilets are bad, mm-kay?
I'm lurking in the cubicle in a seedy club, trying not to look too closely at the brown streaks decorating what was last describable as porcelain some time in the early Edwardian era. I'm attempting to extract a pill from its bag, with what appear to be anaesthetised sausages where my fingers should be. The smell from the pools of unidentifyable bodily fluids on the floor, and the suspiciously multi-coloured streaks on the walls (which almost obscure the anatomically unlikely porn daubed in what appears to be blood) is making my eyes water, which also isn't helping.

Eventually I get the pill out, but inevitably fumble it, and it drops into the pan and through the scummy sheen covering what I'm going to call water with a oleaginous plop. I swear at length and in several languages.

My mate, partner in crime and fellow fluoronaut, pokes his head around the door and immediately grasps the situation. "Dropped it, have you? Never mind, I'll have it!"

And before I can react, he's plunged his hand into the murky depths of the bowl, rummaged around in the suspicious detritus that has refused to flush away in living memory, and then triumphantly held up the wayward Vitamin Wibbly. With a mischievous grin, and something worrying slithering down his sleeve, he pops the pill into his mouth and swallows.

It's now at least 10 years later, but I can still get a reaction by reminding him of that moment, the very pinnacle of his existence.

</pea>
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 13:53, 2 replies)

My mate once puked a pill onto the grimy floor of a club toilet
so I picked it up, flicked off the ubiquitous carrot and had it.
( Dr. Shambolic je suis charlie, Fri 3 Feb 2012, 14:43, closed)

Drugs are bad m'kay

(Littlesirjohn sprung up his head and so amazed them all., Sat 4 Feb 2012, 17:22, closed)