It happened one night...

Disclaimer: despite what you may think after reading this post, I am not on hallucinogenic drugs of any kind. That being said, take my hand, and venture with me into the wild world of Wednesday evening Philosophy class.

In addition to the disclaimer, I also need to preface this by saying that I will be referencing the girl who sits in front of me as Pickles. This is because last week, she brought a Pickle Pak to class and proceeded to eat sweet pickles for two hours straight. That is, until she knocked the Pak over, sending sweet pickle juice cascading over the desk and onto the floor. Fortunately, she was able to mop up...with her gloves...and then clamp the pickle-juice-covered gloves over the noses of her friends for the remaining forty minutes of class, causing them to squeal and recoil in disgust.

6:00 p.m. Class begins. Girl who had been pregnant comes in quite obviously not pregnant. Professor: "Wow! You must've had your baby! Are you sore?" Now, how exactly is New Mom supposed to answer this? She had a baby on Sunday. It's Wednesday. I've never had children, but as I see it, she has one of two possible responses:

1. "You'd be surprised, really - pushing something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of a lemon really isn't all that bad!"

2. "I sure am - that episiotomy was a real b*tch!"

Of course she's sore. But why are you asking?

6:05 p.m. Class commences. We continue adding to our list of "Things to Get Off The Moral Hook, Spring 2008." The premise: come up with reasons that we are not morally responsible for hitting a small child with a car. Included in the list so far: "My prosthetic leg got jammed under the brake pedal." "I was high and thought the kid was a monster." "I'm driving Christine."

6:27 p.m. Pickles pulls out a can of pineapple and a spoon and starts a-snackin'.

6:42 p.m. Pickles wraps up dinner and commences cleaning out her hairbrush, dropping wads of hair on the floor.

7:00 p.m. A discussion on our responsibility to vote begins. Professor Bill points out that the voting machines are all made by one company with ties to a certain political party, and the possibility exists that they operate a master control somewhere.

7:16 p.m. A strangled scream comes out of the heater vent next to me. I think it's the guy one classroom over being exceptionally animated. I THINK.

7:31 p.m. Professor Bill launches in to a detailed synopsis of Moby Dick.

7:33 p.m. Professor Bill wants to know if we know the first and last lines of Moby Dick. The first line? "Call me Ishmael." The last line, according to him? "Call me fish meal."

7:39 p.m. Wrap up synopsis of Moby Dick and begin synopsis of The Neverending Story. When Professor Bill begins talking about Fantastica needing a hero, he does a little leap and bursts into a rendition of Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out for a Hero." With arm motions. (There is no way I could make this up. I'm not that good.)

7:42 p.m. Weird noise from the heater vent again.

8:03 p.m. Pickles pulls a wad of hot-pink Silly Putty out of her bag, fashions it into eyeballs, and affixes them to her glasses, where they remain for the better part of ten minutes.

8:22 p.m. More strangled screams. I begin to think that someone is actually being tortured in the ductwork.

8:39 p.m. Professor Bill wraps up class with the following statement: "In order to be a moral agent, you must be convinced of your moral responsibility. Chickens might be moral agents, but until you get more evidence, I'm not buying into it."

8:40 p.m. Another day in Philosophy draws to a close.