“You’ve got paper in your pants”

The following details our latest experience with pot. My wife and I had been pretty much baked for a couple of hours. She was lying down on the bed while I was going through some mail. I don’t know why I was checking the mail at around 11 pm, but it felt like a good idea at the time . . . taking into consideration my state of mind.

I came across an advertisement for a furniture store and picked it up, and then took it to the bedroom to show my wife what I had thought looked like an awesome bed. She was still lying on the bed as I walked into the bedroom and told her to check out the advertisement. She did, and said she liked it, but hated pretty much the rest of the furniture featured on the advertisement. I then snatched the paper out of her hand, and we started playing keep away.

She was lying on her back, with her eyes closed, and I would wave the paper around her, and just using her sense of hearing, she would try to snatch the paper of my hand. She failed, quite a bit, but it was fun so we continued until she actually snatched a piece off of the ad, and tossed it over to the side of the bed. Then, I walked out of the bedroom because I had remembered the reason I had been looking for paper. I had to kill a moth. Which, I failed by the way. All I succeeded in doing was waking it up and royally pissing it off.

I managed to fight off the moth onslaught and retreated to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. At that point in time, my wife still on the bed, had shifted positions, and now was lying on her side, and to me, it looked like she was hiding something. My marijuana-influenced mind started to put the pieces together, and it deduced that she had folded the piece of paper she had torn off the ad and was hiding it in her pants. Why I thought this, is of course, beyond me. But I was determined to get it bad.

“You’ve got paper in your pants” I said, as I jumped on the bed and started trying to undo her pants.
“You’re fucking crazy,” she said as she laughed. “What are you doing??!”
“I’ve got to get this paper out of your pants” I kept saying over and over again.

We wrestled for a moment and then she managed to get away. It is then that I realized what the hell I was doing. There was, indeed, no paper in my wife’s pants whatsoever. The paper she had torn off during our earlier keep-away lay crumpled on the other side of the room. It is then that we both started cracking up. We laughed until our sides hurt, and when we finally started to get it together, she mimicked my earlier attempts to get the non-existent paper from her pants on me, which again, sent us into hysterics. Explaining what had happened and why I had been so determined just made us laugh harder.

We then ate some brownies, tried to watch a horror movie, and dozed off.