Not for the faint of heart

Here's an excerpt from a truly sickening story about Alvin and the Chipmunks and the Chipettes and Ziggy Marley for NO APPARENT REASON WHATSOEVER!!! I've taken out the sex scenes, thankfully, and left you with this: A fun-filled trip into the world of Chipmunks and "heightened sensory activities". Most important is Alvin's revelations while stoned, almost James Joycean in its subtlety, and almost Ginsberg in its lucidity, and most certainly Don Martin in its stupidity. Enjoy, if you're truly sick enough.

4/27/95: Nobody knows who actually wrote this. The person to whom I attributed this has denied any responsibility whatsoever (wouldn't you?) so PLEASE STOP ASKING HIM FOR THE COMPLETE THING. You're sick, sick people.

"In fact, there be only one thing we Jamaicans like more than sex." said Ziggy, leaning forwards, a mischievious grin shining on his face.
"What's that?" asked Brittany.
Ziggy produced a flat silver box from his back pocket and flipped it open to reveal a row of narrow cigarettes. "Ganja!"
"I thought you didn't approve of that stuff." said Simon, looking doubtfully at the joints.
"So seh me press releases." replied Ziggy, smiling. "But how could I be me father's son if I didn' smoke ganja?"
Alvin grinned eagerly. "Then go ahead and light one up."
Ziggy lit the joint. He hauled in a puff of the acrid, herbal smoke, and handed it to Theodore. The chubby chipmunk took a deep drag on the joint and immediately coughed it out.
"You gotta hold it in, mon." said Ziggy, speaking without seeming to exhale. Eleanor took the joint, inhaled, and clenched her muzzle shut with one hand. Jeanette took the smoking cigarette from Eleanor and had a puff. She coughed once, almost losing her blanket, then gave it to Simon.
"Forget it." Simon said, warding it off with his hands.
"Simon, take a chance." Jeanette growled.
"I don't think it's a good idea."
"And I say, if you don't take your turn on this thing, you can find someone else to sleep with tonight."
Simon glared at her. "Using sex as a weapon is really low, Jeanette."
"That's the offer, take it or leave me." she said.
Simon snatched the joint from her hand and whipped it up to his muzzle, sucking in a lungful of ganja smoke.
"There, satisfied?" he said, thrusting it back at her.
"Yes, and you will be too." she said, handed the joint to Alvin and Brittany. Alvin accepted it and took a puff. He turned at Brittany, who was looking at the thing doubtfully.
"Go on, Brittany," he urged softly, gray smoke oozing from his nose, "one puff won't kill you."
Brittany took it and inhaled. The joint was by now almost gone, and Ziggy was already igniting a second one. His eyes had a serene, unfocussed look as he flicked his lighter under the rolled stick and the end glowed to life. He took a drag and passed it on.
Alvin was beginning to feel a trifle light-headed. He rested his head on Brittany's shoulder, nuzzling against her neck. She responded by putting an arm around him and pulling him close to her. He saw that Ziggy was grinning broadly at the sky, Theodore and Eleanor were snuggling together and giggling about something, and Simon had apparently found something of considerable interest in his navel. Jeanette was unsteadily handed him the fresh joint, humming dreamily to herself. Alvin put it to his lips and inhaled deeply, feeling the sage smoke fill his lungs. He coughed, swallowed to moisten his windpipe, and breathed out as hard as he could, but the smoke would not leave. It just hung there, like a great cottony mass clinging to the inside of his chest. Then, he felt a sensation completely new to him, a slipping, drifting feeling, as though he were falling off the face of the Earth. He sensed his blanket slipping upwards across his chest as the beach seemed to slide out from under him, and his feet found themselves sticking out into space. The fading crimson light of the sun was pulsating, and Alvin found that as he squinted at it it changed colors. Intense, he thought, and smiled, because everything felt so funny. Then he started laughing. That was the last thing he could recall afterwards.
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