Weekend, with strange eary vibes (please critique)hahahaha

by weezer

Posted to Stories on 2002-01-28 16:26:00

Its funny sometimes how weekends can go really well, really sour, just be plan odd and sometimes the infrequent disturbing one pops up. This weekend however was kind of a mix of all of those. It always starts off spectacular, because of the usual “schools out for the weekend bit” but this weekend was even better. The week was short due to mid terms and for the fact that mid terms were over meant something, meant something big. You don’t just come out from a rigorous testing schedule and go home and stretch out holding your dick in you hand with your thumb up your ass. NO! You party like you never have before, you go out get piss ass drunk and forget yourself, sometimes literally. But of course that’s what we HAD to do and I was all for it.
You know it’s really funny on the last day of school before the weekend, when you and your friend decide. “Hey wanna get stoned tonight and tomorrow?” You see it never has to be detailed or even asked twice, nah, all you have to do is look at the guy and ask and you get the straight forward “YEA!!! That is a great idea, alright dude give me ten bucks and I’ll go search around for a twenty, aight?”
“Yeah man, good deal!!” with the usual jumpy excitement, knowing that sweet herb will be once again flowing through your veins. Its been two months and even though your not any kind of virgin to the effects, you still find you self wondering how it feels again, that’s when you get really excited. So here I am in the morning right before my English Regents sitting in Social Studies looking around to find my friends in class that sell or know people who do. Sometimes I find myself wondering how many drug transactions have taken place in this school or even in the classes for that matter. I mean here I am turned around at my desk with my back facing my teacher fingering a twenty dollar bill in my left hand and holding up 2 fingers to show my friend that I want a twenty with my right. With a smile and a nod my friend raises his hand, asks to go to the bathroom and walks past me. We touch hands, which seemed like by accident but no, oh no, this is a mistake, these are highly refined skills, which have been obtained through many classroom drug transactions. With a simple apology for hitting his hand and a jolly nod we are both full filled, and everybody is none the wiser. The teachers think they know, but that’s the sweet irony of these days, they think that they know what goes on in the building, but they know half. I’ve seen the most depraved things that you would expect to see in some ally in a slummed out city, in my own school bathrooms. Kids chowing down tabs of acid, kids picking around in their bags of shrooms for the best head of the batch. And the teachers only think weed is sold in the bathrooms, ignorant bastards, and they have the audacity to say they will fix the problem. HAHAHAHAHAHA, I mock them as I sniff my sweet nug under the desk, poking at the little red hairs, looking at the sparkling white crystals.
So my part of the deal is dealt with, with extreme seriousness, you can’t bear to be stupid with drug deals. Its hard to get caught if your serious, but if your stupid, than you can be plucked out of a group and then your in trouble, I’ve seen people fall to those circumstances before.
You can see the extra jounce in my walk as I stride through the crowded halls with a little mound of happiness sitting in my fifth pocket waiting for the party to start. I see my friend walking at the opposite side of the hall towards me, he’s got a smile on his face and that same jounce in his step and I know he has down his job. But I have know clue how much of an understatement that is. He walks up to me and just looks at me with his accomplished giddy grin, and breaks it for a second to say excitedly. “DUDE, you gotta see this!!?
At that point entering the bath room my mind was boggled because I had know clue what was to pop out of his bag. He zipped the bag open slowly to let my anticipation build slowly and also to let me know that this thing is serious enough to do all this mellow dramatic shit. As he zipped the bag open I saw as this red cylinder started to form, getting longer and longer as my eyes grew larger and larger until I felt the pressure and excitement begin to scratch at their casing.
“MY GOD!!” I look on with an astonished smile as my excitement bubbles to the top and then I start to laugh and grab the 7inch carry along bong. My god this thing is beautiful for its size. So pretty, I’m not even hesitating to say “pretty” because this thing was just that. My hands started to shake with this nervous anticipation for tonight. I quickly remember that I too have something exquisite to show my friend and I look up without a word and then down again as I fish out the full bag with my two fingers. He looks on as the bag keeps on coming, his facial expression changed from exuberant and satisfied to this shinning glorious opened mouth smile. We both knew the craziness to come and we were well prepared for it.
Waiting on the porch at his house we sat eagerly shaking our legs rapidly. Knowing that in a couple of minutes that bong will be lit and we will be sucking the shit out of that little red beauty that sat in front of me shaking its little ass at me, luring me to light it up. I looked like this crack addicted bum sitting looking at this bong like it was a 19 year old beauty who sat brushing he hair or something, but whatever that thing was good looking. With the bag in my left hand and the lighter in my right I sat waiting for Matt to finish his shit and get out here so we could get this shit started. Oh man I was waiting for that first hit, the smooth yet harsh whip of smoke trickling through that bong. OH MAN!
Well, Matt came and oh shit did that hit feel good. I was basically weeping with joy, as the sweet euphony of the bubbling water seeped in through my ears, and the smoke slithered its way down my throat invading an already conquered space. I really missed this feeling of inertia, but I have this limit that keeps me straight and doing well in school, “Once a month for weed, and any time I wanna drink, whatever I can drink whenever”
Those two days were something so odd and so great, we got lost, got stoned, and got lost some more, but they great thing about getting stoned and lost at the same time is that you don’t remember. The only true thing that you remember is the supreme urge to eat something, the urge that sneaks up on you and strangles you leaving you in this less of struggle to walk. Boom, flash and your on a couch eating something spicy yet strange but so delicious. You’ve gone through 3 or 4 hours of being outside stoned and lost and all you can actually remember is maybe an hour stretched out throughout the whole trip. The only thing that you have to remember about the tedious walking is the complete failure to function or move due to the system shut down when you hit your couch at home. You pass out and then wake 2 or 3 hours later feeling just as shitty so you go upstairs and go to sleep at 8 with 6 hours of sleep already under your belt. That’s when you say to yourself, “that was a great weekend” but then you remember as your dozing off, “holy shit, it’s fucking Friday, two more days of craziness!”
Usually I would use those days to every hour in heavy drinking bouts but I had other things that weekend. You see my brother goes to Fordham and we went to go see him for lunch on Sunday. So we show up and give the regular crap about how he looks and all that shit and then we’re off to little Italy to go eat. Now I myself have never been to little Italy so this was all new to me, the street was just littered with Italian flags and other Italian merchandise. In the air was the thick permeating smell of sweet pastries and bread, this street Arthur Avenue had at least two dozen bakeries all of the same excellence. So we walked down in a line, me, my brother next to me and my mom and dad next to us, the funny thing is, is that 4 people take up a lot of space on a sidewalk if not the whole thing. Walking down the little Italy sidewalk forming a wall wasn’t exactly something smart, but these people looked right at my dad and then at the ground as they walked off the curb and waited for us to pass. At first I just played it off as some sort of odd coincidence, but everybody that passed did the same thing, at least twenty people. I was starting to get odd thoughts going through my head like, Why are these people afraid of my dad, a principle? Is my dad involved in something? Is my dad involved in the MOB? Is my dad even a PRICIPLE?! The questions just got extended and crazier as we walk on.
We soon go to the place where we were gonna eat, Dominique’s. We walk in and there is one large wooden medieval table in the whole restaurant. This waiter comes up and says hi to my dad, which is odd to say the least, and only adds to my suspicion and then seats us on the end of the table. A waiter comes and walks around us looking at us with a concentrated stare like he was finding something out about us; he too talked to my dad and then left. Twenty minutes later the guy came out and sat a dish of pork chops on my setting and then said to me. “You like?” in a thick Italian accent, like all people who cant’ understand the gibberish coming out of his mouth I just smile and nodded to avoid confrontation, and then chowed down. It was fucking good too, exactly what I wanted, how’d this guy know? This place gives me strange vibes, I’m almost positive my dad is in the mob or at least related somehow, but I never know. We eat and leave and I watch as my dad shakes this guy’s hand with a hug and it gets me wondering again. IS MY DAD IN THE MOB? If so where is my cut on all of this?