Basement of home. Somewhere in the United States. October. 1988
Stoner 1: Dude, I can't feel my face.
Stoner 2: You don't want to. I can see it from here. It's ugly.
Stoner 1: Piss off. At least I got road head from Jenny Conlin she wouldn't even go to the Fine Young Cannibals concert with you.
Stoner 2: Eat it with a spoon. Dude, I am baked. What's on TV?
Stoner 1: Doesn't the World Series start today?
Stoner 2: Yeah, flip it on.
Stoner 1: What channel?
Stoner 2: This is 1988. We get like ten. Keep flipping till you find it.
Stoner 1: Got it.
Stoner 1: Is that Nancy Ray-Gun? What the hell does she know about baseball. Like she is going to get me to stay off drugs.
Stoner 2: Dude, what is that guy looking at?
Stoner 1: Yeah man, stop looking in the camera.
Stoner 2: He is bugging me the fuck out man.
Stoner 1: Relax, its your head playing tricks.
Stoner 2: He is looking RIGHT AT ME. WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM DUDE!!!
Stoner 1: Chill dude, he is in the television.
Stoner 2: HE ISN'T FUCKING BLINKING MAN. WHAT THE FUCK GIVES!!
Stoner 1: Dude, you have to relax, my mom is upstairs she is going to come down here and bust us...
Stoner 2: OH MY GOD NANCY IS GOING TO HIT THAT DUDE IN THE FACE. BACK UP CATCHER DUDE!!!
Stoner 1: Holy shit she is. DUDE PUT YOUR MASK ON!!!!
Stoner 2: Oh god I can't watch.
Stoner 1: OH CRAP SHE THREW LIKE 8 BALLS RIGHT AT HIS FACE.
Stoner 2: Seriously, change the channel, I am going to crap myself.
Stoner 1: I am never doing drugs again.
True story, ask my dad. We talk about it all the time.