Stoned Talks

I have been meaning to write for a long while, on how difficult it is to have a sensible conversation when you are under a self-induced period of bliss. The following conversation/story/happening/occurrence, might or might not be, fictional.

So here we were, sitting on the terrace. The occupants of the terrace consisted of the Sage, the comic relief, the foreigner, the translator and the dog. The dog was not actively involved in the intake of the happy substance. But I had noticed in the past that the dog chose to lie quite close to us on our previous occasions of the blissful state. (On other regular days of hanging out, the dog would generally ignore us, or choose to lie at full-stretch at a respectable distance.) Today, it was looking at us with a goofy smile, which seemed to say, " Come on already, blaze it."

The Sage: This is some good shit dude.
Foreigner : Dieses is gutes unkraut. (This is good weeds.)
Comic Relief: What?
Translator: This is good weeds.
The Sage: Yeah, that's what I said.
Translator: Yeah, I was just translating it for the Foreigner.
The Sage: Were u translating what I said, or were you translating what he said?
Translator (moments of sielnce later) : I think I translated what he said to you, and it meant what you said to us, and it also echoes what I am thinking.
Comic Relief: Dude you are good!
Translator: Thanks.Danke.
Foreigner: warum? (why?)
(ignored)
Dog: Yawn!
Sage: Hey, You know, lets smoke some more. Yeah.
Blaze.