I suppose I do look quite tasty.

Things have been a bit dull lately. I have a feeling that I’ll regret that statement come this weekend when my family shows up en masse for Thanksgiving, but there it is anyway.

I could tell you about what happened at court today, but I don’t particularly feel like talking about it. Let’s just say it went neither badly nor well. Though I did look quite smart, if I do say so myself.

Instead...

I always get a bit nostalgic around the holidays and today I found myself thinking of one incident in particular. I can only assume that the reason I dredged up this memory is that the person it involves reminds me a bit of Santa Claus – if Santa Claus sold marijuana.

Several years ago I lived in a small house on the more questionable side of town with five other people. One of those people was my cousin Dooby. His girlfriend and I worked together in a Greek restaurant close by. I have no idea what the others did. When we weren’t working we were getting drunk, getting high, and playing video games.

I also have no idea how we smoked the amount of marijuana that we smoked and functioned. Hell, for all I know we didn’t. Most of my time there is a great big blur. But there are a few things that stand out. One is the time Dooby tried to whore me out for pot.

He had a friend, aptly named after snack food, that was his regular pot dealer. I never saw the guy much because I always went through Dooby to get my stuff...or just smoked his.

One night we were sitting on the couch playing a video game when Dooby said to me, “You know, Dude likes you.”

I wasn’t really paying him much attention. “Uh huh.”

“I told him you were single.”

“Mmm....”

“So, you know he’s got this good shit that just came in right?”

That got my attention. “For real?”

“Yeah...”

“So are you going to get some”, I asked him.

“Well”, he said looking all shifty, “it’s kinda expensive and I’m broke.”

I sighed and turned back to the game. “Oh.”

“But...I was thinkin’. What if I invited him over to hang out with us? He’ll come because he likes you and he’ll probably smoke some of it with us too.”

I didn’t have to think about that for long. After all, all I had to do was sit in the same room with the guy and he would light it up and pass it around. Sounded good to me.

“Ok, whatever. But don’t tell him anything stupid like I’m into him!”

“Yeah, ok.”

So the guy came over.

He was over six feet tall, had a shaved head, and was very...round. I couldn’t begin to guess at a weight, but the fucker was huge. I looked like the Rob to his Big, only you know, a girl. And he had really red cheeks, like Santa Claus...but less jolly looking.

He sat down and we all hung out for awhile. I relaxed a bit because everything seemed ok. He did in fact break out his awesome new pot and share.

I got up to get something to drink and Dooby followed me into the kitchen. I was stoned off my ass.

“Hey”, he said. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“You can’t leave me in there with big un’”, I hissed.

“Why don’t you flirt with him a little bit and see if he’ll give you some pot?”

“Are you crazy?!”

“...man, if you slept with him you’d be set for like, a whole week!”

I was getting horrified. “Did you say anything to him?”

He looked sheepish and amused at the same time. “I might have said that you MIGHT do him...”

“WHAT!”

“....or something like that.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you! Get him out of here.”

But he didn’t. He ran for his bedroom and shut the door like a little wimp.

So there I was faced with an enormous drug dealer who was sitting on my couch, most likely waiting to get laid.

I decided to do the only thing I could do: I went back in there and played video games.

I told myself, “Self, if you stay busy and be aloof, he’ll leave.”

Let me tell you something about Self. She was a fucking retard.

I played the fuck out of that video game and while I played, he lit up another blunt. And I smoked it. And by the time I finished smoking it, I was so high I could have been on the goddamn moon.

The next thing I know he had his fat mouth on the back of my neck and I was crawling across the couch attempting to get away. Unfortunately, since I was so stoned, it seemed more funny than horrifying. I started laughing uncontrollably and he took that as an invitation, I guess.

I remember laughing and thinking, “Don’t crush it! Don’t crush it!” but I’m not sure if I said it out loud. And by “it”, I think I meant myself.

He kept pawing at me, but I finally managed to stumble to my feet.

I told myself, “Self, if you go to bed and leave him sitting here...he’ll just leave.”

Oh, Self! No!

The thing about my bedroom was...it was actually a dining room. It had double glass doors that led into the living room, but I had installed a curtain rod over them and hung long, dark curtains. Problem solved. But there was another entrance that led into the kitchen that didn’t actually have...a door. I’d fixed up a blanket over the opening.

And the thing about my bed was...it wasn’t actually a bed. It was a gigantic air mattress. Unfortunately, I’d poked a hole or two in it somehow and I’d have to hook up the electric pump at least twice a night to lift myself back up off the floor. But it was fucking awesome when it was inflated!

So anyway, I stumbled to my feet and out of the room. I may or may not have said goodnight, good riddance, or save the whales.

I flung myself through my blanketed doorway and onto my then inflated bed. I was so high all I could do was lay there and think about...whatever it is high people think about.

Then all of a sudden there was an eclipse.

Actually, big un’ walked in the “door”, but same thing.

Before I could move...or maybe that’s not true. I probably could have moved, but my brain wasn’t on speaking terms with my limbs. Or my mouth, since all it said was, “Uh...mumble mumble huh.” Anyway, he fell like a giant redwood onto my bed and, as it happens, on top of me.

Unfortunately I have trouble breathing when I’m being smothered, so I was unable to tell him to remove himself at first. I’m not sure exactly what he was doing while I was folded up in the air mattress and he was squishing me like a bug, but I’m thankful that Self didn’t tell me to undress before I got in that bed.

I felt my back hit hard floor. The fucker had managed to deflate my bed in the matter of minutes...maybe seconds. My concept of time wasn’t really at it’s best.

He grasped my arms and rolled, causing what air was left to shift to one side and dump us unceremoniously onto the floor. This left me sitting astride the great beast, stunned and slightly angry that I’d have to pump up my air mattress sooner than usual.

It was then that I noticed he’d managed to partially remove his clothing and I began to shriek and scramble off of him. Who knows what he was saying. Probably “Feed me Seymour!”

I finally managed to extricate myself and still oblivious to the danger of having a horny, mammoth drug dealer in my room that may or may not have just tried to eat me, I went straight to the fucking air pump and started fixing my mattress.

Fortunately he’d had enough of my shenanigans and plodded out in search of something more fulfilling...like an aisle or two at the grocery store. Again, I remember nothing he said. I may or may not have called him “bone crusher”.

It wasn’t until the next morning when I sobered up that I realized I might have just angered the wrong person. Then I remembered who was really at fault. Dooby.

That’s why I never told him about the bag of pot the giant dropped in my room in his struggle to swallow me whole.

I smoked it all by myself...to the FACE. And it was awesome.

I was surprised that the guy never came back for his bud, but I can’t say I blame him. I’m not used to fighting with my food either.