I remember gutsing a whole fatty to myself because the heads looked kinda fluffy, so I assumed they were not very potent because it wasn't solid and sticky and stinky and I thought I'd need the whole thing just to get a little bit high. This is where I first learned about pot that creeps up on you. It hit with a vengeance and just kept on coming. So maybe 30 mins later I was spreadeagled on my bed barely able to move when I 'realise' in a stoned eureka moment that the human body is a vessel through which to experience things, and our bodies are like batteries and when we run out of charge we die and I had just discovered the secret to the universe etc... then I convinced myself that my battery was low on juice and I needed to recharge but I couldn't do it because my battery cells were low on water and I needed to fill them up before I could recharge...so I ended up shaking with the cold sweats and trying to crawl to the kitchen to get a drink of water mumbling that I don't want to die I'm a good battery I just need some water, So I make it to the faucet and I'm gulping water like there's no tomorrow when I realise I have one hand on the hot top, and one on the cold, and make the logical conclusion that the hot tap is a + terminal and the cold tap is a - terminal. I then become very paranoid that if I take my hand off the wrong 'terminal' first, I will cause an instant charge dispersal like shorting a capacitor and will lose my vital life force. So I'm stuck there for a while afraid to move lest I accidentally discharge my essence through the sink taps when I think the top of my head is starting to get warm, and instantly I assume I am overcharging and now the crown of my head is overheating, I need to stop getting charged from the water terminals otherwise I might burn out. So I freak out for a bit then have a stroke of genius and decide that if someone were to turn the water mains off then it would cancel the circuit and I would be able to let go of the faucets. I was crying at this point and too weak with fear to yell for help, so I tried to reach the phone up on the wall with my foot and hit the autodial and phone my friend or an ambulance if she wasn't home. I knocked the phone and it fell to the floor and I stabbed at it with my big toe. I must have hit the right button because I heard dialing, but no ring tone, and I couldn't hear if anyone was there because I couldn't hear anything over the sound of my breathing, and I swear I could hear loud and clear the blood being pumped through my body. I see my leg and it's wet, and think I peed myself and for some reason I go to wipe it off then realise I have let go of one of the faucets and wonder why I haven't died or exploded. I wobble off to bed thinking about it and decide that by peeing myself and standing in the puddle with one leg, I grounded the charge or whatever and made it safe to let go.
A little later I'm deep in paralytic thought about having a near-death experience, still weak and not really able to move much, just concentrating on breathing, trying to conserve oxygen in the room by controlled slow breathing, because I shut the door behind me thus sealing the room off and I'm too wasted to get up and open it and I don't want to use up all the air in the room before I'm recovered enough to get up. Then the cat jumps up at the foot of the bed and starts purring and looking at me, and then starts walking on me slowly towards my face. I'm paralysed with fear because I think the cat can read my thoughts, knows I can't move, and is now going to seize it's long awaited opportunity to eat me alive. It starts licking my face and I am sure it's trying to 'steal my breath'. I start to feel tired and strive to stay awake for fear of what the cat might do to me.
I don't remember much after that, I think I passed out or fell asleep but awoke with my friend and her flatmate laughing at me.
Apparently I had called her and all she heard was "..the water...the water off...water off..." and crying then a crashing noise and the phone went dead. She had come over to find the front door wide open, the kitchen flooded with the faucets running, a broken phone on the floor, and me in my bed with my pants halfway down and the cat licking my armpit. I was still stoned when she woke me but it was more like a calm coming-down buzz.
Later I told her I must have overdosed on weed and she laughed and said theres no such thing, so I gave her the rest of my baggie because for some reason I never wanted to smoke pot again.
2 days later she said her flatmate and his mates smoked the rest of it in one go in one great big joint while drinking. They said it was the best shit they'd ever had, except for one who said he had nightmares of being tied up in a closet that was floating in darkness and Big-Bird from Sesame St was painting him with blue paint LMAO