We all have stories about our magical bong...gather roun' chil'ren whilst I tell you mine.

Her name was Charlene.  She wasn't really much to look at.  Somebody bought her at the headshop that used to be on 86th street between 2nd and 3rd.  It's LONG since gone.

She was blue plastic, standard bowl, carb in the back.  I'd say 2" in diameter 14, no...16" tall with 2 fat bulbs about 1" above her base, which was nothing more than a flat circle of black plastic.

Goodness gracious could this lady take you for a ride.  You fill that chamber with milky white cotton and you clear that shit in 1 go...Lungs exploding-you hold that shit in son....you hold that shit in (now we know better).  90 seconds later, you'd see the devil if you were lookin' for him...more than once she brought people to the fetal position.  

Abby Road blarin' in the background...that end section of  **i want you (she's so heavy)** grinding along...That was a chore, but the sweet silence of **Here Comes the Sun** was waiting for you on the other side....magical times.