Oates: Mr. Monk?
Adrian Monk: Oates, thank God! Where's Randy?
Oates: He's asleep. I can't help but noticing that you're handcuffing yourself to that grain drill.
Adrian Monk: I inhaled some reefer!
Oates: I gotcha.
Adrian Monk: I think it's gonna kick in any minute. Here's the thing. I can't tolerate any drugs or medication. It's my metabolism. I don't know what- I don't know what's gonna happen to me. I might go berserk. I might hurt somebody! Oates. Dude, here. Here. Listen, whatever happens, don't don't unlock me. No matter what I say, even if I'm begging you! Oh, my God. Here it comes. Here it comes. Oh, God! I think it's starting.
Oates: We're talking about marijuana, right?
Adrian Monk: Uh-oh. Riverdance! Oh! Oh! I-- I can feel it. I'm-- I'm getting hungry.
Oates: Did you have dinner? We got some pecan pie in the fridge.
Adrian Monk: It's the munchies! Oates, don't-- Whatever you do, don't put anything near my mouth!
Oates: Can do! But I gotta say, you know, I've had some experience in this area, and I don't think you're stoned at all.
Adrian Monk: Oh, no? No?! I see lights flickering!
Oates: Yeah, they're fireflies.