I passed the pipe.Chuck hit it ... nowhere as hard as I did ... but sufficient. He was watching me. I let out a nearly invisible stream of air ... not...ing wasted.“Great hit, mom. As heavy as you hit it I expected coughing.”“Hey ... no Bogarting ... pass the pipe.”After a few rounds we reached the dottle ... no smoke. He took out the poker and cleaned the bowl, put the brass rod away and looked.“Nope ... plenty, Chuck.”Amazing ... pot had come so far. Prior to this my most memorable high had. But not brainwashing, not endless theories instead of endless slave-work, it was her back that should be scourged and bathed in sweat, not brain! ?-- But you don't look too muscled, -- dared she to interrupt her lecturer. -- You look just feminine.-- Right, -- suddenly laughed the Lady, --- we call it a hormonal Renaissance. When you stop being a rowing machine and start again being a female, still not losing your addiction to permanent endurance and physical exhaustion, you choose a slighter. More

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