Chet smokes a joint in his car.
CHET: So. (He coughs.) It's not what you know, it's who you know. I passed my piss test. I was worried there for a while. I considered buying piss off a co-worker who doesn't smoke but I couldn't figure out hot to smuggle it in all hot and fresh like. With my luck I would have spilled it or some shit. I took a cleanse but I didn't get my hopes up because, like I may have mentioned before, I'm pretty much saturated with THC. No, what happened was this, I pretty much resolved myself to the fact that I was going to fail the drug test. I figured I go in, piss, go to work, and get fired in a couple of days. I figured this out after I smoked a big bowl. So yeah, I show up. It's all, I dunno, medical. I sign in, wait, get sent back to the area and there she is, Betty Wilkins. Holy shit. I went to High school her! She used to date my pal Ronnie Gordon. We all used to skip Mr. Goshe's Government class and smoke doobies in Ronnie's Camaro. She looked great, man. She didn't recognize me at first but when I gave her my paperwork her face lit up like the Vegas strip. We talked for about five minutes, catching up and what not, and then somebody else came back to piss so I told him he could go ahead of me. Anyways, I told Betty, there's no way I gonna piss clean and she said, "Don't worry, just go piss and I'll take care of the rest." I think she switch out my piss for another one or something because my results came back clean. (Chet's phone rings) Oh, hey. I'm outside. I'll be in in just a sec. So, yeah. I got her number we've already gone out a couple times. Shit, man. Things get funny.