You consider the proffered phattie (which he is still thrusting in your direction) for a moment. You can see that he's baked beyond belief as his eyes wander magnetically back to the flickering TV. Clearly, he shouldn't smoke any more, and the only humane thing to do is to take the joint from him so he won't go on mindlessly puffing away, making himself even more mindless, and thus prone to more puffing . . . As you consider this vicious circle, you take the J from him, holding it carefully, somewhat awkwardly. You survey the room, trying to figure out what all of this is about. How many guys are in here? How long have they been here? Why do they stay? These questions and many others roll through your mind as you try to construct a scenario that would explain all -or any- of this. You think back . . . what did Ron say? The point. He said what the point was . . . why didn't you pay more attention? You concentrate, trying to replay the conversation in your mind. After a few minutes' effort, you start to remember it, but it is tenuous, slippery. As you focus harder, you remember. The point is to pass the joint along, and not take a toke. That's it!! With relief, you exhale the thick cloud of smoke that's been burning your lungs for the past several minutes as you thought and thought back to the conversation with Ron. You feel a sinking feeling, but aren't sure if it's the smoke leaving you (which does feel strangely as though you're deflating) or some other . . . disappointment. You try to think about that, but feel your eyes swivel toward the flickering light of the TV. "Heh," you laugh for no real reason, and then, "Heh-heh," because there was no reason for the first 'heh.'