This exercise was to write a short dramatic monologue, a la Browning, about a stoned man trying to get out of a drug possession charge.

Yo dude, it’s like, these aren’t my pants, I swear
I don’t know how that bag of weed got there.
I heard this bang and thought that I’d been shot
And fell down flat; I guess my jeans got caught
Around my knees (but that’s beside the point).
Alright, this afternoon I smoked a joint.
And that, my honesty, should be enough
To prove I’ve never seen this other stuff.