Rigmarole

Rigmarole- something long, complicated, and tedious

Ex: The cigarette pan flute seemed like such an ingenious and necessary invention in the moment, but it proved to be quite the rigmarole to actually put together the finished product. After the 8^th Miller High Life hit my lips I was overwhelmed with the desire for not just any regular old nicotine buzz, but a heart-pounding, vision-reducing head high that only an artfully crafted carcinogen delivery system could provide. In retrospect, this would have been a lot easier if I wasn’t hammered, but then again, I wouldn’t have been struck with the eureka moment to actually design such a frighteningly powerful pipe. When that lightning bulb went off in my heavy, booze-addled head I felt like Stephen Hawking when he discovered how to tape a keyboard onto a wheelchair, or whatever it was that he was famous for. After an early attempt at just holding four cigarettes side by side proved inconsequential, I stumbled over to the garage to grab some duct tape to wrap around half a pack of Marlboro Reds. This worked okay, but I couldn’t get all the cigs to line up properly for maximum inhalation. To fix this issue, I stabbed a long, sharp toothpick horizontally through the middle of each cigarette as if they were a turkey club served in a blown-out deli during the Bosnian War. That did just the trick. The cigarette pipe flute was in full operation. One puff of that stimulant woodwind instrument and you were baptized in a hot chocolate fondue buzz, drifting off into an ethereal slumber.