Meet Devin: My Baby Quaker Who Got a Contact High and Ate All of My Salami

I’ll keep this short. This Devin Wasserman kid is a little punk.

Devin, my Baby Quaker, said he wanted to go to a college party to see what all the hubbub about the social ivy was about. When we stepped past the door at the party, Devin immediately shouted at me, “MY FUCKING EARS, I THINK THEY’RE BLEEDING.”

He told me his mom didn’t let him hear any sounds above 130 decibels and that we had to find a different room immediately, but that he still wanted to stay at the party. I obliged and said we could go hang out upstairs in my friend Cole’s room.

While Cole’s room met Devin’s condition that we both be at a party and also not be in a loud room, it did not satisfy a new Devin rule. Cole and his friends were smoking the devil’s stinkweed, otherwise just known as weed. Puff after puff, Devin avoided the smoke clouds like Neo in the Matrix, bending his scrawny little body to not risk infecting his lungs with the poison of second hand smoke. It was too late for Devin however, as eventually the smoke became unavoidable.

After about five minutes in Cole’s room, Devin had had enough of our delinquent behavior and demanded that I take him back to Rodin, my home. On the walk back, Devin said he thought that the white crosswalk guy was the yellow google maps man who escaped, that Penn feels very purple, and that he could feel his liver leaving his body.

By the time we reached Rodin, Devin claimed he was as blazed as a pizza. But it wasn’t pizza or snacks that would satisfy this clown. Oh hell no. As I was fast asleep on the couch, this god damn thief ate all my mother-fucking salami. I had other deli meats in there too. He could’ve eaten my corned beef, my ham — I wouldn’t have cared. But anyone who knows me knows one thing...

Don’t. Touch. My. Fucking. Salami.