“Dude, where did you get this shit?” Craig asked.
“At a party,” Jeff answered.
“At a party? Whose party?”
“Honestly, I don’t know whose party it was,” Jeff said. “I got this weird invitation in the mail. I was invited to a grartor party.”
“What’s a grartor party?”
“I had no idea, which is why I decided to go. The invitation piqued my interest.”
“Well, I went to the address on the invitation and knocked on the door,” Jeff explained. “There were about a dozen people sitting around in beanbag chairs. The room was illuminated only by black lights and there were psychedelic posters on all of the walls. People were wearing flowered shirts and bell bottoms. Jimi Hendrix and Jefferson Airplane were playing on the stereo.”
“Sounds like you stepped into the 1970s, dude,” Craig said.
“I know, right?” Jeff said. “So people were passing around a bong and when it got to me, I took a big hit on it. It was amazing shit, man. It blew my head off. I asked what it was and someone said it was called grartor.”
“So what happened?”
“It’s all kind of a blur, but I woke up naked and in bed with some girl,” Jeff said, “So I must have had a good time.”
“Do you know what grartor is?” Craig asked.
“I asked someone the next day if they could tell me what grartor is,” Jeff answered. “But all he said was, ‘I could tell you the ingredients, but then I’d have to kill you.’ But he did give me some to take home with me.”
“Far out, dude,” Craig said. “Give me another hit of that shit.”