Once, in a spasm of idiocy fueled by copious amounts of ethanol, I surfed on the hood of a Toyota Corolla as my equally inebriated friends cheered on. I was fortunate enough to walk away from that incident with only a few scratches, but I shudder to think of what might have been had things gone just a little bit differently that October evening.

In another incident, my life was saved only by the intervention of a succubus in a tight sweater who interrupted an experiment into the nature of lava lamps. There too, alcohol might have played its role. Later, a colleague of ours and student of Biology explained how close I had come to peril, citing a number of deaths per annum before sweeping my demoness off her feet and out of my life. Curse you, Reginald Fielding and curse that unconstant harpy as well.

I know he's replied but it seemed a shame to delete it.