One fine evening at the dinner table.

The mood at the dinner table was uncharacteristically tense. Ian stared at his empty plate while his parents stared at him, wondering why he was so quiet.

“So Ian,” Ian’s father spoke up. “What did you do today?”

Oh, I had Steve over and we hung out in the kitchen and I cooked bath salts, baking soda and vinegar to make shnulk and then we smoked it until we were berserkly high and then we were passed out on the floor for the rest of the day.

“Nothing,” Ian muttered.

“Oh,” replied Ian’s mother as she dished out another helping of rice that was cooked in the same pot Ian used to make shnulk and when she tasted it she suddenly became berserkly high and then passed out on the floor for the rest of the day.

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