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Substance.com Readers’ Holiday Tales: A Bong Gone Wrong

Today's installment of our readers' seasonal sharing of their substance-related experiences.

12 Substance

Recently we invited Substance.com readers to share their stories of holidays past that relate to substances or their absence. Today’s reader not only described her experience, she put it into verse! She’s a well-known drugs and harm reduction blogger who prefers to remain anonymous on this occasion (because, after all, she’s suffered enough). Enjoy!


“This bong hit was cursed.”


‘Twas just days before Christmas
When I bought a fat ounce,
Got my grinder, my bong,
And got ready to pounce,

Put my lips to the glass
And then pulled out my fire,
Put more weed in the bowl
So that I could get higher.

Then once finally lit,
I took a HUGE puff.
Little did I know…
This was going to be rough.

This particular haul
Was far from my first,
But for whatever reason,
This bong hit was cursed.

When I exhaled my hit,
With a cough and a hack,
Suddenly my vision
Just faded to black.

And the next thing I know
My ass is on the floor—
And…oh holy HELL,
Is my left foot sore!

When I tried to stand up,
The pain would just surge,
So it looked like high time
To head to emerg.

(Unable to cop
To what truly occurred,
I made up a lie
To sound less absurd.)

One five-hour wait later
The doctor had spoken:
“It isn’t good news—
Your foot, ma’am, is broken.”

Then in came the nurse
With an oversized shoe:
“An air-cast AND crutches,
Especially for you!”

Awaking that Christmas,
I knew Santa was pissed.
Broke my foot with a bong hit?
I’m on the naughty list.