Ae...
09-20-2005, 03:16 AM
This isn't really a thread to reply to I suppose...but feel free to. Here goes...
Scrapped together some bits and pieces into makeshift doobie this humid afternoon. The sweat trickled down the bridge of my nose as the doobie was completed with a final flick of the tounge. I then proceeded to perform my ritualistic set of tasks before ingniting the doobie.
Get hair out of the lighter range. Check. Wait for what little breeze there was to die down. Check. Glance at the sky and a nearby tree and embrace the beauty of nature. Check. Lastly the lighter and guest of honor, a slightly moistened doobie. Double check.
So I light the thing a take a hit. Four hits later I feel the welcoming and long-awaited feeling of climbing into the subconscious. It was magic I tell you...magic. My thoughts are now much more complex yet I speak them in single words.
So I get up from my cubby-hole in the backyard and walk around to the car-port to finish up the doobie. I proceed to smoke the doobie as if it were my last bit of oxygen in a tank. About this same time my mom comes rolling up the drive-way about 30 miles per hour (pretty damn fast for a drive-way.)
I instantly see my plans of telling her I smoke rather than getting caught go up in flames. So as I was putting the metaphorical flames out I acted out the first of ten other ideas racing through my skull to dispose the remaining portion of doobie. Into the pants pocket of course! Still lit of course!
I gave myself a pat on the back for the quick thinking, but soon realized the apparent disadvantages of having a lit doobie in my pocket. The embers also reminded of this, giving the message to my leg to relay through to the brain. I sang a song of curses as I slapped my leg trying to put the thing out.
All of this happened while my mom was still driving up the drive-way. I know I am caught. The sweat and humiliation sets in immediatley. I stand there like a dumbass trying to act casual. Standing there as if I just like to do it as a pass-time or something. I began walking to her car. She waves me off. I can not see the look of rage on her face through a glare on the glass.
Around this time I can't tell if my stomach is lodged in my throat or dragging behind me. She backs out of the drive-way and drives off without a word. Son-of-a-bitch! I could not beleive I was caught this easily. I never saw it happening to me. But here it is. It is so real.
I check my pocket for the doobie. It was the first time I never wanted to smoke. I felt around my pocket a second time and noticed a new hole burned into it, probably the size of a dime (coin heh.) I retreat into the house and "Dazed and Confused" is on the AMC channel. I watch the conclusion to that and my mom comes back home. She asked what I had burned. I replied that I had not burned anything. She accused me of burning ''those damn incense'' again.
Thinking it was a trap I just mumbled something along the lines of "Oom nah yuhm". My mom apologized for leaving so abruptly. She claimed to have forgotten to go by the store to pick up something to eat tonight. She was waving goodbye not shaking it out of anger! Again I could not tell exactly where my stomach was located. The sweat on my brow evaporated almost immediatley. The high was one of the best I have had in awhile, aside from burning a hole into my pocket. Now I can't hold a pen or money in it anymore.
Well, if you're still with me I appreciate it. Anything similar? Again comments are welcome wether it be a "Fuck you." "That reminds me of the time I..." or anything else you guys can think of.
Scrapped together some bits and pieces into makeshift doobie this humid afternoon. The sweat trickled down the bridge of my nose as the doobie was completed with a final flick of the tounge. I then proceeded to perform my ritualistic set of tasks before ingniting the doobie.
Get hair out of the lighter range. Check. Wait for what little breeze there was to die down. Check. Glance at the sky and a nearby tree and embrace the beauty of nature. Check. Lastly the lighter and guest of honor, a slightly moistened doobie. Double check.
So I light the thing a take a hit. Four hits later I feel the welcoming and long-awaited feeling of climbing into the subconscious. It was magic I tell you...magic. My thoughts are now much more complex yet I speak them in single words.
So I get up from my cubby-hole in the backyard and walk around to the car-port to finish up the doobie. I proceed to smoke the doobie as if it were my last bit of oxygen in a tank. About this same time my mom comes rolling up the drive-way about 30 miles per hour (pretty damn fast for a drive-way.)
I instantly see my plans of telling her I smoke rather than getting caught go up in flames. So as I was putting the metaphorical flames out I acted out the first of ten other ideas racing through my skull to dispose the remaining portion of doobie. Into the pants pocket of course! Still lit of course!
I gave myself a pat on the back for the quick thinking, but soon realized the apparent disadvantages of having a lit doobie in my pocket. The embers also reminded of this, giving the message to my leg to relay through to the brain. I sang a song of curses as I slapped my leg trying to put the thing out.
All of this happened while my mom was still driving up the drive-way. I know I am caught. The sweat and humiliation sets in immediatley. I stand there like a dumbass trying to act casual. Standing there as if I just like to do it as a pass-time or something. I began walking to her car. She waves me off. I can not see the look of rage on her face through a glare on the glass.
Around this time I can't tell if my stomach is lodged in my throat or dragging behind me. She backs out of the drive-way and drives off without a word. Son-of-a-bitch! I could not beleive I was caught this easily. I never saw it happening to me. But here it is. It is so real.
I check my pocket for the doobie. It was the first time I never wanted to smoke. I felt around my pocket a second time and noticed a new hole burned into it, probably the size of a dime (coin heh.) I retreat into the house and "Dazed and Confused" is on the AMC channel. I watch the conclusion to that and my mom comes back home. She asked what I had burned. I replied that I had not burned anything. She accused me of burning ''those damn incense'' again.
Thinking it was a trap I just mumbled something along the lines of "Oom nah yuhm". My mom apologized for leaving so abruptly. She claimed to have forgotten to go by the store to pick up something to eat tonight. She was waving goodbye not shaking it out of anger! Again I could not tell exactly where my stomach was located. The sweat on my brow evaporated almost immediatley. The high was one of the best I have had in awhile, aside from burning a hole into my pocket. Now I can't hold a pen or money in it anymore.
Well, if you're still with me I appreciate it. Anything similar? Again comments are welcome wether it be a "Fuck you." "That reminds me of the time I..." or anything else you guys can think of.