Ted’s Black Diamond climbing helmet went missing during the middle of the night. This left Ted distressed. He was particularly miffed because the MIPS technology kept his righteous noggin comfortably snug. “Gotta keep the ole brain matter secure,” he explained to his roommate, Alex. Alex nodded as he passed a bowl of Sour Diesel super weed. Ted lit the weed with his lighter and puffed.

The weed wasn’t working. No matter how many tokes he took, Ted couldn’t relax. He needed to find his helmet. If he didn’t find his helmet, he couldn’t take his climbing exam, and if he couldn’t pass his climbing exam, there’s no way he could graduate from Boulder University. It would be 7 years of his life wasted.

He hit his head out of concern and then inhaled a huge drag from the shiny blue marijuana bowl he created in his Mesoamerican pottery class. He held his breath. He coughed.

“Dude,” Alex said. “You should retrace your steps from last night.”

“Dude,” Ted smacked his hands together. “I should retrace my steps from last night.”

The only problem was, Ted couldn’t remember his steps from last night. He remembered walking past Cheyenne Arapaho Hall. But he wasn’t sure if that was two days ago or freshman year. He smoked more weed.

“Dude, do you have another helmet?”

Ted did not have another helmet. He searched his room and found a cowboy hat, a femur, and a torn poster for quantum computing. “My mom’s Aunt is gonna kill me,” he stressed. “Seven years gone.” He glanced at his watch. He didn’t have much time. The doorbell rang.

Alice, their 70 year old neighbor, stood on the porch. She smelled the weed from outside. Rather than complain, she asked to buy some. Ted apologized. He didn’t have enough weed to spare at this high-stress time. She asked what was wrong. He explained.

“Well, you can borrow my late-husband’s construction helmet,” she said. “But it’ll cost you a massage and some weed later. And you have to give the massage in your underwear.”

Ted minored in holistic massages and he preferred giving massages in the freedom of his underwear. He agreed, got the helmet and ran to the climbing gym.

On his way to the Rec Center, Ted hurried past a banner for “Understanding Quantum Computing.” He scratched his head, forgetting that he was wearing the yellow helmet, and went inside the presentation hall. He followed the signs, stopping in front of a vending machine because he needed to get some tasty cheesy puffs. Sadly, there wasn’t enough time for Taco Bell.

“Ted, you got any more weed?” Said the janitor holding a mop. “This time I got money instead of a cowboy hat.”

Ted peered at the man holding the mop with half-closed eyes.

“Amigo,” the janitor snapped his fingers. “Money. Weed. We know Alice.”

After sharing several hits of weed from Ted’s vape pen, the janitor promised to get Ted’s helmet, thereby saving Ted’s academic career. But, Ted would have to sell the janitor more Sour D super weed. Ted agreed. So, the janitor took Ted to the lab with the big-screen TV where they smoked weed and played Fortnight. There, in the front of the classroom, was a skeleton missing its femur. Strapped to the skeleton’s head was Ted’s Black Diamond climbing helmet.  

“You wanted to protect its skull,” the janitor said.

Ted did want to protect the skeleton’s skull. He tightened the strap of the helmet around the skeleton’s bony chin, checked his watch, and ran out of the room still wearing his yellow construction helmet. He arrived at the Rec Center just in time.

Breathless, standing there in his yellow construction helmet, he placed his elbows on the counter and leaned forward to catch his breath. He gasped, giving his name. The girl typed it into the computer. “Oh, you’re just in time,” she said. “The beginner’s course starts in 5 minutes.”

“Huh?” Ted said.

“The climbing course you signed up for. It says you already paid the $25 dollars.”

“But… I… need to graduate college.”

“Uhhh,” the girl shrugged her shoulders. “I can print you a certificate when you’re finished.”

“Oh, cool,” he replied.

Later that evening, as Ted stood over Alice’s wrinkled back wearing the construction helmet, white boxers and black socks, he questioned what some might consider his over-reliance on medicinal medication. He took a deep drag from his Mesoamerican marijuana bowl and coughed. Alice sat up and the towel slipped below her saggy, tan boobs. She called him a good boy as the doorbell rang; the janitor peeked in the window and waved. “Oooh,” Alice said, as she rolled onto her back. “I haven’t been finger-cuffed in a long time.” Ted opened the door to the janitor wearing a big ole grin and cowboy chaps. Ted took another hit of weed and let him inside.