Jimi: Hey, who’s the dude with the stick up his ass over there? [walks over to Spock] Here, Man, have a toke off this.
Spock: I appreciate the offer, however I must decline.
Jimi: You ain’t no narc or nuthin’, are you?
Spock: I do not know of this term “narc,” but I am fairly certain I am not one.
Jimi: Okay, Man. [Takes a big toke off his joint] Hey, Man, your color’s a little off. You sick or somethin’?
Spock: I am not ill. I do appreciate your concern, however.
Jimi: I dunno. Last time I saw a guy that color, he upchucked in my room. We had to take the party to Noel’s room. You sure you’re not gonna lose your shit?
Spock: Lose my shit?
Jimi: You know, throw up. [Tokes]
Spock: Ah, interesting colloquialism. No. I am not going to “lose my shit.”
Jimi: Well, you’re way too uptight, Man. C’mon, try this. It’s good shit. It’ll loosen you up.
Spock: “Good shit”? Is this the “shit” which the individual you referred to previously lost? If so, that is a highly unsanitary practice.
Jimi: HA! Yeah, you ain’t no narc. You’re a walkin’ dictionary, Man. But you’re all right. How’d you like the show?
Spock: The rhythmic qualities were not unlike the Antarian triticale harvest celebration, with melodies similar to the mating call of the amphibious bean-mole of Rigel IV.
Jimi: Shit, Man, if you didn’t like it just say so.
Spock: Quite the contrary. In fact, it was highly aesthetically pleasing.
Jimi: Well thanks, Man. I guess.
Spock: However, there is one aspect which intrigues me.
Jimi: What’s that, Man? [Tokes]
Spock: It is illogical to set aflame the instrument on which you make your music.
Jimi: Aw, Man. It’s cool, Man.
Spock: The flame is not hot? I did not believe that technology existed on Earth until the Sylvia Altman breakthrough of 2142.
Jimi: No, it’s real hot… Wait. Did you say “2142”?
Spock: Affirmative. I am from the future. The 23rd century, in fact.
Jimi: Gimme some of that shit you’re on, Man.
Reblogging because my daughter discovers a way to make fire that isn’t hot…when she is 140…