"I call it the Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop

"I call it the Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop Bong. See it looks like a rubber ducky. The intake is here. You can smoke in your bath." "Mr. Beezow Doo-Doo Zopittybop-Bop-Bop

, we've told you many times to refrain from using that term in our shop. The phrase to use is 'water pipe'. And the answer is 'Yes'. We'll take 60" Mr. B was thrilled. His first

He supposed that this is what the kids called "breaking badly" or whatnot, that he was going to have to be in the game now, slingin' that dope. He wished he had listened to

Hanson & followed the advice they'd given in the song MMMBOP instead of dealing drugs. Now that he was breaking bad, he couldn't go back to those idyllic days. A gong sounded

in his head. He'd read in a book that it happened to drug dealers with a rare genetic disease. Now he was affected, shady government scientists would look for him. They'd want to

score some genes, no doubt. A scientist pulled up to him, cracked open her tinted window, and inquired, "If I rub your magic lamp will the gene come out?" 3.5 uncut grams

of cocaine will do plenty to induce hallucinations about genies and magic lamps. Clearly, that scientist was in need of rehabilitation. That, or a good slap to the face.

I adjusted my turban, shouted "Alakazaam!" and socked it to him. He tottered and crumpled into a heap of white coat, test tubes and ball point pens. I fired up the carpet & tapped

a keg (I was thirsty) & watched the world whirl away under a blur of red, gold & blue. Ahahaaahahaaa! I was off to my next big adventure!