KIDS HANGING OUT THE WINDOW LIKE MICHAEL JACKSONS BABY
MAY 21, 2022
Rolled my own blunt today. Whaaaaaat? Let me see that. Kidddddddd.
I know. Took me like two hours, ten Games and a bunch of Youtube videos. What strain? Big Bomb Sativa. Never heard of that. Where’d you get it? In the city, they had a truck selling it. I asked for the strongest sativa. They said, come on man, I can’t sell to a twelve year old, I had to beg them. They said it’s a daughter of Green Crack.
OK, OK, kid. The crackhead’s daughter, you’re on the right track. Are you sure you want to, though? You never wanted to at all.
Yeah, I think it’s time, I wanna try. I had an idea, too, this is my video idea I was talking about. I brought the GoPro, let’s film it. Everyone always talks about their first time, but no one has a record of it. This would be like, what really happened.
Stevie after dark shit, Chet said. Yeah, time for my heel turn, Stevie said.
But I thought you said I was gonna be the star?
I think you will be. I wind you up with the strongest sativa known to man? You’re gonna go solar system.
It’s true, I’m liable to go apeshit kid. I’ll be honored to be in a Stevie T video, no lie. Let the Teamsters see me shine. But are you sure you really want to? Kid might shrivel up bigly, just lay a turd in primetime.
I mean, I’m not gonna livestream it. I’ll only use it if it’s actually good. Not gonna post it if I start crying hysterically. We’ll see. Where’s Timmy?
Who knows. Gas station, or something like that. Kid drives around like an Uber driver, but solo, always solo. He’s allergic to money, kid.
You got a lighter? Yeah. Can we smoke in here? Yeah, mom’s gone for a while. Tito loves smoking up here, I think we’re good. Alright, let’s get situated. Stevie cleaned the room a bit, pushing keyboards, cologne bottles, and magazines back into alignment. Then he strapped on his GoPro, settled into Timmy’s computer chair, sparked the blunt, got it lit, said ahhhh.
He turned his camera on and took a huge hit and then a smaller one. Sorry grandma. I’m going wild off the reefer today. 60 Minutes gonna say this is Russian crack. Specially formulated to make me a sleeper agent. Shit tastes good, honestly. It smells mad strong but I like the taste. Stevie passed the blunt to Chet, watched him intently. He felt the camera through himself, imagined Chet reflected on its tiny lens. Chet looked tense, less omnipresent than usual.
Relax, Stevie said. Just take a hit or two. Chet took a massive rip, swelling the cherry with a succession of puffs. It’s the damn Jersey kid, Stevie said.
I’m going dudley on a cannon, keeeed. Smoking the shit that knocked Mel Gibson’s head off in The Patriot. Stevie laughed. Smoking that Apocalypto kid. Big Box Office Bomb Sativa. Go, go, Stevie said. Smoking that fucking Battlefield Earth, looking like John Travolta kid. Looking like I had the custom forehead installed. Carbon fiber forehead, my thoughts are ten percent faster. Smoking that Paul Walker Tokyo Driftwood. Got killed by Bradley Cooper in Hollywood, shit’s crazy. Bradley cut the brakelines on the 2060 Alien Strontium 115 Tesla he was driving. Smoking that Warner Brothers Universal Studios turf war turf kid. Bro, keep going, keep going!
Chet took another hit but didn’t inhale and blew it out immediately. Bro. Smoking that what, Stevie said. Smoking that fucking, bro, bro. Smoking that Tracy Morgan kush, wearing slippers in the Lambo. Uhh, ah, god. Smoking that. Smoking that When Harry Met Sally fake orgasm kush. That Meg Ryan Botox overdose kush. Smoking that. Ugh, fuck. Smoking what? Fuck, bro. Bro, god. Bro. Aww, no. What, what?
Bro, you fucking piece of SHIT, this is indica. You fucking DOSED me kid. Turn the camera off.
Yo, chill, chill, Stevie said.
I’m serious, you rat fuck. Turn that shit off kid, OFF.
Bro, it’s all in your mind, Stevie said. Like, what is even going on.
Turn the fucking camera OFF, kid. OFF. Or I’ll take it off for you. I’ll rip that shit off so fast, gonna leave a welt on your third eyeball. Bro. Stevie laughed again and Chet came at him, reaching towards his forehead. Stevie boxed him out, ripped off the GoPro, and threw it on the bed.
You’re gonna delete that too, kid. I’m gonna melt that fuckin GoPro down, T2 style.
Bro, what the hell. They said it was pretty much a hybrid.
Don’t insult me Stevie. I knew immediately kid, I told you. I’m allergic to indica, like straight up for real. That was a dickhead move. A big, big knock kid. I’m honestly disappointed. He sunk into the bottom bunk and wouldn’t say anymore.
Stevie said a few more things, apologized a few times, but there was nothing left. He slunk out and was at the end of the driveway when Timmy pulled up in his Accord.
Damn bitch, you live like this? The passenger seat is a trashcan, Stevie said. I know, I’m a slug, bro.
Chet says you’ve been driving around, doing nothing. Yeah, pretty much, Timmy said. But don’t make it sound so pathetic, I’m having a great time. Yeah? Yeah. What are you guys up to? Chet’s in the bottom bunk. What is it now?
Fucking kid DOSED me. DOSED ME. Chet’s head was sticking out of their bedroom window. What are you talking about? I’m coming down there. Hold on. What’s he talking about?
I’m not sure, Stevie said. What did he say? Doughed me, like pizza dough? I thought he said dosed, Timmy said. Like you gave him acid or something.
Chet opened the front door. Indica bro, Chet said. Indica. He fucking brought indica into this house. Gonna need to wear a Hazmat suit to sleep tonight.
What? Look at Stevie’s eyes kid, the kid is blistered. Bro, Stevie said. I’m like, seeing things and shit. Shit, no way, Timmy said. You really smoked? Kid, he put the GoPro on and made me hit the indica blunt like four times. Like some Joseph Mengele shit, kid was Nazi experimenting on my soul.
Bro, Timmy said. Where’d you even get an indica blunt? He rolled it. Stevie, you knowingly rolled a blunt of indica flower and brought it into this house? I plead the FIF, Stevie said.
Look at this glee. He can’t contain himself. This is just sick, Timmy said. Kid is just feasting on Chet’s pain, like Pennywise the clown or something. Oh shit, he didn’t like that, Chet said. Kid is just deflated to be called Pennywise. The tides of war are turning.
Bro, I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, Stevie said. I mean, I feel fine.
Bro, Timmy said. You weren’t there, on that fateful day. A dark day in history. One of the worst. A single half smoked indica blunt brought down an empire. It was the most Prest Malone he’s ever been.
Kid, I taught Prest Malone everything he ever knew. I was going full r&tard, biting a pillow trying to stop from screaming. Shit was fucking nuts, mom thought I needed an exorcism. My eyes were black, I was just roaring. I literally bit clean through a sham pillow, I was foaming at the mouth kid. Had the jaw force of a fuckin gator, just beyond devastated. Clamped down on that shit like Lake Placid and just spazzed kid. Mom stuck her whole hand through the hole in the pillow when I was done, I lowkey almost got Shanghaied to Four Winds. She wanted to bring the sham pillow as evidence since my piss was pretty clean. It was only six hits of indica kid, only six hits. That’s all it took. That drug test was a whisper but my mind was a fucking haunted house. I screamed like you did when Ellen got onepieced, like NOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAA. Just had that pillow in the alligator deathroll, dead to rights kid. And now, here you are, indica blunt in hand, dragging me back, kid. Back into a nightmare. Two thirds of the way back to hell kid, shit is fucking sad. My own cousin kid, my own fucking cousin. I invented the term Stevie Teamsters, never saw a dime of restitution, never saw a dime, but I was happy for you, I really was. I ever even get an Instagram shoutout for that? You don’t have to answer kid, we all know the truth. As soon as Stevie got put on, he pulled the ladder up. He doesn’t even like it up there, but he doesn’t want me to be up there with him. Ugh. This is what the indica does kid, I swear to god. I’m salty as a fuckin margarita rim. It used to be all different. The pre-indica Chet? Studly. I was a lacrosse god. Now? Dudley Rothschild bro. I can barely even cradle it, like barely. Bounces right out, easy. I’m a little scared of the ball now, honestly. Fucking kills me to say but it’s true.
Bro, it honestly is true, Timmy said. Coach said it was like he had a stroke. Went from one of the best players to a benchwarmer. I could shed a tear, kid, Chet said. What was, what could have been. That indica blunt was a dream ruiner.
Damn bro, like what actually happened? Like, you hit the blunt and just started biting shit?
Kid, don’t even ask. Shit is G13 classified. I’m going back up to the room to wait this shit out. He’s going bottom bunk, Timmy said. That’s the only place for me, Chet said. The only place for me, in a world this cruel.