Another Stoner Story...
I had just popped my bud's herb cherry, and, surprisingly enough, he was lit off his ass with some superb Canadian Exo's. Anyway, a bit prior, we had run out of food at my place, having polished off a crapload of Chinese food between a family of four. All we had left were some packets of duck sauce and some (by that time crunchy) white rice. My friend, stumbling around like Hunter S. in the midst of an ether binge, makes his way to the kitchen for some "munsheez." Half giggling and half grunting, he begins to rummage through my fridge, all the while mumbling about the complete lack of food.
"You'll probably end up eating plain rice, dude." I bellowed from my post at my computer. How right I was.
After 15 minutes of ill-fated searching, he returns to my room with the most rancid smelling plate I had ever had the unhappy coincidence of ever having smelt. A full bowl of week-old rice and four packets of duck sauce; and I don’t mean four packets worth of duck sauce. The orange goo was still somewhat contained in the half-melted packets. I intended to stop him from eating, believe me, I really did. I ventured out to put an end to this ludicrous exercise in standard stoner procedure, but something about that moment stank of a Dave Barry-esque hyperbole. So, instead, I shouted out:
“Five bucks worth of pot says that you can’t eat that without your hands.”
That motherfucker won the bet, and in under 5 minutes to. Imagine my surprise, when, two hours later, I realized that he had either mad the plastic casings disappear or he had eaten them. And he’s no magician.