The morning after
my best friend and I exchanged blood [back in Primary school days], he walked in to the classroom, sat down beside me and announced in his gravest voice; "We've both got aids and we're going to die". Neither of us knew anything about Aids other than that it was bad, so of course I started shitting myself [figuratively] whilst he remained perfectly calm, neatly setting his excersize books out on the desk.

The next morning, we were apparently dead from aids and had come back as ghosts. We had to concentrate if we wanted to have any physical effect upon our surroundings, which probably resulted in incredibly constipated girning everytime we opened a door. However, we had to keep the fact that we were ghosts a secret from the adults so that we wouldn't get in trouble for giving each other aids, which resulted in conspiratorial whispering for about a month or so whilst we searched for a way to come back to life.

Needless to say, one morning my friend walked in to the classroom, sat down and announced "Joe, I've figured it out, we're alive again!" just as I was concentrating on opening the little draw suspended beneath my desk. Sure enough, I found that I no longer needed to concentrate to pick things up, and we had been miraculously cured of both aids and death. I never recieved an explanation from my friend, but it was good enough for me because he was the leader of our gang so any bullshit he made up was accepted as Bible.
(Text_Fish -- Humourcide., Mon 31 Jul 2006, 12:36, Reply)