Alright, so awhile ago, me and my friends, J, M, and T are all hangin' out smokin' and shit. Normal stuff, ya know? Well we walked to this bridge in the neighborhood and J hit it up (graff shit). After he hit up this wall, we broke the #1 rule of graffiti that we usually follow. Never smoke where you get up. So after he gets up on this wall, we get set up, load my bong, and smoke a couple spliff bowls. At some point we start sketching cause we hear a car door slam, and so we're debating whether to leave or not. We waited too long, and a cop comes walking down the little dirt path to under the bridge where we were. Now, my bong is in my lap, and my back is facing the cop, so he doesn't see it. He asks, "Alright who was paintin'?" None of us answer, and he says, "If the person who painted doesn't confess I'll just assume you all did it." At this point, M (who gets really sketched out easily), is trippin'. She's sayin' how she didn't do it and can she go, pretty much freaking out. So J confesses to it and then the cop sees his grinder on the ground next to him . He asks what it was for, and J holds up the bag of American Spirit tobacco we were using for the spliff bowls. So this asshole cop makes him dump the bag of tobacco down the hill. At this point, I've hardly been listening, and haven't even moved. I've just been thinking to myself, "Shit, shit, shit, what the fuck am I gonna do with my bong?" After J dumps the tobacco, the cop tells me to stand up. Now, before I tell you what I do next, understand that I had cargo shorts on, so they were kinda wide at the bottom just under my knees. So, after he tells me to stand up, I hold my bong in front of me, and as I turn to face the wall, still not facing the cop, but now at a 90 degree angle from my previous position. As I stood up fully, I slid the bong to my side, like on the side of my leg, and just held it there, absolutely certain that the pig would see it. But... he didn't . So he asks me if I was painting, cause my paint pen fell out of my pocket as I stood up. Eventually, he tells me to get my things and leave. Now I had no idea what to do, cause I had to slide my bong (water still in it) inside of my backpack without him noticing. As luck would have it, right as I did that, the cop looks over at T and M, not noticing what I had done. So I'm holding my backpack from the top, and he makes me roll T's grinder down the hill . But after that, I walked out with my heart racing and so fucking amazed at myself that I pulled that shit off. A month or so earlier, J's dealer had knighted me with his 6 footer, and so after this whole situation, I've been labeled as a Ninja Bong Knight in my circle of friends. The cop drove J to his house and told his mom he was tagging. His mom doesn't give a fuck about that so he was off without consequences too. We called him and went to this chill spot and smoked some more, unfazed. Needless to say, it was scary as shit, but most definitely my proudest moment in my stoner history. Anybody else have ninja stoner stories/moments?