I got back in town early Saturday morning. I was good and ready to get over this quest to get high but everyone is/was rooting for me so it’d be bad to be a disappointment to my support system.
I walked into the auto shop ready to get the day over with. It’s hard to repair cars again after you just spent five days in the car roaming across the United States but here I was fixing an alternator. I was wiping down a carborator when Bobby rounded the corner. Bobby was newly homeless. His old house got burned down in a meth bust and he needed to take the edge off. It hurt me to see him this way. So stressed, out of meth and no home so I did what any good friend would do and I facilitated a drug deal for him. I did everything for Bobby besides pass him drugs and take the money.
Funny enough, visiting my customer at The Red Roof Inn and doing this for Bobby was less stressful and scary than actually doing the drugs. I honestly thought all of The Wire episodes paid off. I felt like a young Bodie or Michael in the Baltimore streets. Shit, fuck that. I felt Marlo than a motherfucker. Never a pawn in the game.
I ended up also doing it again for someone else later in the week when he came back to the Kroger to buy some kool aid. Did I miss my calling? I love watching How To Get Away With Murder. I love shooting guns. I love making creepy jokes about shooting someone in the stomach and watching them bleed out. I could have ran the corners of Nashville so efficiently but instead I’m stripping at the Juke Joint with no ass.
Anyway, that went on longer than expected so let’s get to why you’re here. Not my pluglike activities.
Bobby and I met up later on that day out on the farm. I was going to smoke with him but I decided not to because I wanted to infuse my half gram in whiskey. This idea was based on something I heard about on twitter but Bobby urged me to the horseshed to smoke just a little bit with him before parting ways.
My head was in a frenzy. I was super nervous. What if the police came? What if I got so high I crashed my car and went over the bridge. Fam, I can’t swim. (Even though, I’d more than likely die upon impact.)
But he packed the bowl and tried to assist me with learning to smoke but I can’t work the lighter, breathe in and hold a bowl. God didn’t bless me with multitasking skills which is why I would be the madam and not the ho. Those who can suck and tickle the balls do. Those that can’t exploit them for their own benefit.
He finally just lit it, inhaled a bit and passed it to me so I could catch some. I took two puffs and he said I should be high soon. We parted ways and he drove off into the sunset on his tractor.
On the way home my throat was a bit scratchy and mucusy but I didn’t feel any different. When I got to the doorstep, my ears started to hurt so I laid down and watched YouTube until it hit me but the only thing that happened was my face started to hurt. Soon after I was sleep.
Mainly because I’m old. Not because I was high which made me judge everyone that spends their money on this shit.
The next morning at the Taco Shack everyone told me two puffs were not enough so I plan to nix the whiskey thing and smoke my little half a gram so I can release the judgment but I hate going to the store. Laziness but I will update you soon.
Question: If I am lazy before weed, will weed make me more productive?
PS: Here’s my friend being supportive and teaching me in true YouTube tutorial fashion how to make a water bottle pipe.