Rentyre

You walk straight to the corner, and sit down in the remaining chair. A few 'hey's of recognition are exchanged, and you pick up one of rolls. Someone gives you a light, and you start in.

You don't even know which end to start on, but Reggie's memories take care of the whole process, allowing you to focus on the effects.

The guy on your right, who eyes are already blood-shot, makes a proposition to the group. "Whoa, whoa, here me out a bit, here. Has anyone else noticed this? We are, like, a free soul weighted down by a fleshy anchor, man!"

"Dude," someone else says, "That's deep, man. But, like, we feel with our anchor, man. We'd be, I dunno, too free."

"Yeah, man," you chime in, "We'd be free from feelings!"

Everyone laughs, though you're really not sure why. As two becomes three becomes four, the clock cheats you out of your evening. After a few brief attempts to make the room stop shining so brightly, you give up.