I have a friend who's a guitar hero. He goes to an arts magnet, and loves it. But it's common knowledge that if you select any 10 art people at random, at least 10 of these are potheads. You have to be if you want to get by in the art world. It's like your mind is a camera and drugs are the little rag you use to wipe crud off the lens.

So, one fine day after lunch break, my friend is sitting in English class, and who should walk in but a stoned classmate of his. A few minutes later, everyone is reading a passage, and in the midst of the silence our stoner friend gets an idea.

His classmates' heads turn to see him huffing on a cigarette lighter. Is he trying to get high off the fumes? Nope -- out of his mouth explodes a huge fucking fireball. Minutes ago he had been engaging in his very favorite psychotropic activity, and so he happened to have a lighter in his pocket. Somehow, god knows how, he made the connection from having a lighter to blowing fireballs in class.

Only the highest of the high would decide that doing this is a good idea. As a matter of fact, doing this is emphatically not a good idea. You see, this particular fellow has (well, had) long, luxurious hippie hair. It goes FOOM.

The guy's head is on fire. The logical thing to do in this situation is to stop, drop and roll, but he's both stoned and panicking so he just sits there yelling and batting at the fire with his hands, which only serves to spread it around and stoke the flames.

Eventually the fire runs out of fuel, and everyone sits there gawking at him. It appears that he'll have a dreadful paucity of hair for the foreseeable future.

Stoner guy, if you ever read this, please don't get mad and set me on fire or anything. Thanks.

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