Refries on the beach
Around the age of 12 I went to a summer camp. You know the rosting marshmellows, singing crap songs, panty raids, the whole nine. We went on excursion to Catalina. Insted of sleeping in cabins we got to sleep in tents. Joy!

My best mate at the time was a bit more advanced than I. He had pubes, wore a Ramones shirt 24-7, had slept with a girl (allegedly), and knew how to smoke. He had been talking the whole time at camp about "refries." I nodded and pretended like I knew what he was talking about. Really I had no clue.

So we take a boat to Catalina and we go to the beach. We're walking along combing the sand looking for refries. I'm looking at the sand still having no idea what a refry is. Finally my friend says, "I got one!" It was a Virgina Slim 3/4 of the way smoked with lipstick at the end burried in sand. He was extatic and said, "Alright, now we gotta find one for you." I was slighlty grossed out, but wanted desparatly to be cool. A few moments later we located a half smoked Camel.

We retreated into the handicaped stall in the men's room at the beach to puff on our bounties. He lit his up and expertly inhaled and exhaled a large cloud of toxic smoke. I tried to lite mine but my depth perception was off and burned off my peach fuzz mustache. Then we heard footsteps. We both freaked the fuck out and threw our butts into the the toilet and franticly flushed. We ran out of the bathroom and back to our tents where we bathed in a gallon of cologne and ate so many Altoids we crapped chalk.

Two years later I started chewing Skoal Bandits. Then graduated to Lucky Strike non-filters. Now, just a ton of weed.

Length? About the size of my peen at the time.
(anotherlogan and the whit he shites, Thu 20 Mar 2008, 3:36, Reply)