My new roomate is of the female persuasion, and as a result I've been learning the ways of civilized folk. Gone are the days of cashing bowls into the empty Funyuns bags on my feet, arrived are the days of tucking savage morning wood into my waistband. But ushering my personal hygene out of third world standards has been just one of the positive impacts.
In addition, my roomate brought her morbidly obese cat into what I now understand is my sad, lonely life. This is not your run-of-the-mill fat cat mind you. This is a stunning, tail-less, geometrically perfect globe of feline. If it had two assholes side by side, it would be hard to tell which way it's facing, like a crafty moth. I have never had a bond with a lower life form that even approaches this level of respect and, dare I say, intimacy. We play many games, namely 'Diabetes', which is where I feed it again after my roomate leaves for work. But as inevitably happens to young love, some of the initial passion and spontinaity has drained out of our relationship. I decided I would share some pieces of myself with my newfound friend, and see if we couldn't bottle that early lighting. That's right, I was going to get that fat fucker high as all balls.
As usual, I also had an alterior motive. I'd heard about blowing pot smoke into a dog or cat's ear to get them stoned, and I always wanted to test the hop-head urban legend. The first step was internet research. I'm not a total moster, so if this was going to cause instant seizures, I wanted to have a spoon ready. To my shock and dismay, internet research turned up little in the way of reliable knowledge. The only people discussing the topic in earnest were on 'pot.com' forums and the like. Now, you can't get much lower on the information legitimacy totem pole than stoner-nerds who spend their days online posting about weed. Maybe if crackheads had websites that would be worse, but crackheads don't have websites. That said, the tragic, dickless thirtysomethings on pot.com all agreed that you CAN get your pet high by blowing smoke in it's ear. One of them even used the word capillary, I was excited.
Like an eager priest, I placed my unsuspecting quarry firmly on my lap. At first, I would take the hit myself and then slowly blow it in the cat's fluttering ear. The sloppy-seconds smoke was sort of deflecting off the thicket of ear hair, and it didn't seem like much was going into it's brain. It just wasn't satisfying, and it was clearly pissing the cat off pretty good. So I switched tactic and filled the bowl up with smoke, then blew into the shotgun with the mouth of the bowl cupped to the little gent's ear. This strategy exceeded all expectation. After the cat's head hit that shit, a thin line of smoke slowly curled from it's ear for a SOLID ninety seconds. I thought it's inner-ear hair caught fire, but apparently it just takes that long for smoke to wisp out of a cat's endless labrynth of noggin-cavities. Then for a long time, nothing. No movement, no munchies, nothing. I was a little sad, but I was also stoned into oblivion, so porn mercifully pushed the expiriment to the back burner. It was during round three when my tennis elbow started acting up, and I had to shift my position. I'll be damned if that stoned cat didn't roll off my lap like a dead four-year-old and land flat on it's fat back. I thought it might indeed be dead, but when I twisted it's nipple, it gave a little mew. And that's how I learned I'm not as much fun when I get stoned as I think I am.