It took him awhile to figure it out, longer than usual. We’d be sitting at Arwolf’s, munching on the sandwiches, listening intently to the convesation with artificially serious looks on our faces, and then, every 2 minutes or so, the fifth iteration (a vagina) would roll around and we’d dissolve into giggles. Eventually he realized we were trying not to stare at the space above his head.

“What, did you guys give me a silly hat or something?”

“Ding!” said Sara, handing him a copy in powder form (still shrink-wrapped). “One hour, eighteen minutes, and forty-two seconds.”

“Oh, fuck you,” said David. But he was smiling.

He grabbed some tissues and stood up; we watched a trail of fireworks follow him to the bathroom. You can swallow mods, but snorting is faster; he probably wanted to see the joke before the end of lunch.