Silence Dogood

Running to the kitchen to grab a towel, I had to hurry to blot the water from the rug so the whole room wouldn't smell of that dank water spilled from my purple haze. It was a contraption that would bring happiness when used in its proper form. However, after knocking it over, often after being put into a stupor by it - it was bloody hell. The spillage was stronger in odor then the ammonia we used to wash the restaurant floors after closing time.

What's worse, my friends who were sitting on the couch in their own stupors, would just sit there and whinge about the smell all the while not bothering to try to help a brother in need. This wasn't just a beer spilling onto the floor. This wasn't just someone dropping there mac and cheese because they were so fuckered up. That could be dealt with swiftly or whenever. This was a two foot bong with water spilled onto my carpet like water spreads after floods. This was a fucking nightmare.