Peter Federson is now nearly forty years in the past, back at his alma mater Southern Illinois University. 58-year-old Pete, now in his original 20-year-old body, confronts his roommate who he hasn't seen for decades.
"With the briefest of nods the youth sat down, produced a curve-stemmed pipe, and with a flowing motion, scooped it into it a big can on his desk.
Then he scratched a wooden match against the upturned log on the floor and lit the pipe with a long draw. Next, he picked up a bottle next to the tobacco and poured a bracer into a shot glass as the cloud of smoke hit the ceiling and spread to the four corners of the room.
To me, the youth looked like a little child who had come across the pipe while playing around in his father’s liquor cabinet.
The boy was exactly as I remembered him, except that he looked much too young for college—like every other student I had seen today, including myself. I sat in my chair and stared at this apparition, until I couldn’t stand the tension anymore.
“Harry! Man, it’s good to see you! How have you been?” I burst out.
The youth turned toward me, and with the pipe clenched in his teeth he said,
“Hello, snake shit.”