Aaron pops into Max's open door with a shit eating grin on his bony face. Max tries not to stare while his face is covered in his textbook, "Intro to Bio-Ethics." He stands at the door for quite some time, waiting for a greeting or even some attention, just that loose conversation you send to a good friend every time you come in contact with them. Max tries so hard to live up to silence, not to be distracted by that grin--- to just finish this chapter but the strangeness in his friends behavior cant even let him finish these words laid out in front of his blank face.
What's up. Max says through the hundreds of pages in his book, muzzled to the point of incoherence. Aaron somehow hears it and with that shock of attention, Max notices he is obviously ecstatic, he goes into some extreme tale--laing out his day as if it was worth documenting, like Aaron was the first person to reach the fucking North Pole. All Aaron is trying to do, which Max realizes because he does this every week on Friday, payday, is tell Max how we got this gram of pot. But all Max can think was 1 fucking G, and while this phrase entertained his psych, he chuckled out loud, completely embarrassed for Aaron. So amateur.
When Max's mind snaps back into the conversation he realizes Aaron was looking for some feedback like "Dude...Sick!" or "No way, that shit smells bomb." but he just sat there, trying to recollect what he just heard but he was to busy laughing in his head to himself. Easily distracted by this but at least he never gets lonely. So between the noise of static, Aaron goes for the invitation.
"....So wanna toke?" But something ambiguous flips in Max, not like a switch but a coin, as if nothing else mattered and time paused so he could just breathe and think. He was going to watch that documentary on those murdered dolphin in Japan but come one he was going to do that at least a month ago. Time already passed and that idea has deteorated like so many before that. He conjures up, trying to argumentally win against the thickness of his thick conscious. So when anyone normal, or we like to call the straight edge, would hear "wanna toke?" they probably would be offended or even better yet, come up with an extravagant excuse of why they can't smoke. Last time Jenson smoked his grandma died or like when Kudo smoked he cried for the first time in 4 years and that was just to much for him. But when Max hears those words, he actually hears
"Dear Max, during your great understanding of the world, life, and being apart of the Knights of the Round Table for the last 3 year tantalizing years, me, Sir Aaron of Nightsdale hereby grant you to partake in this evening of festivities, lets smoke this fine hallucigentic, lose all ambition, any barrier we have ever tried to hold up in battle, paddle through our inhibitions, and enjoy our carnvierous lifes."
Max yells "HERE, HERE!"
But in reality, it is translated as "Fuck yeah, I ain't got shits to do."
He grabbed his robe, his sweatshirt
He tediously searched for his pipe, his staff
And then snatched his own pouch of weed, the very item that grants his magical capabilities.
Aaron laughs through his eyes because not every day does his best friend act out of the norm, saying g random medieval phrases out loud would seem odd to anyone, am i right? But it was time to get to business, to adjourn this meeting, to take part in our witchcraft. Max leads the way, Aaron takes the back. Disguised in their attire, eyes staring straight, never traiing off of the prize as they navigate the corridor of their labriynth--the dormitory. Walls and turns and doors that lead directly into a persons life. Their keepsakes that tel you everything about them, the posters that celebrate their hobbies and their cleanliness or lack there of that shows the maturity that exists all around you--in this maze.
Aaron catches sight of a security guard and instantly loses his cool. He starts trembling as if he was being hung by his shirt collar off of a bridge. The depth of shit they could get in wasn't that scary and Max knew that. Max shoots a nod towards the tall man and everything works just fine but Aaron thinks about turning around and going back. Once you throw the invitation though, you can not turn back. Even if the crime isn't worth the prize, the high is already lingering in your mind. The buzz brings back all the memories, all the times you have shared with people and just shutting that door is way more tremendous then even being caught because if you didn't partake, the thought of missing out eats away at you like a virus. It burrows its way into your mind, your thoughts, until you just have to. Like I said, there is no turning back.
Max tries to cool down his friend "They don't care." "It's none of there business what we do" "They are just living there life like we are" "We are in college what do they expect" and Aaron finally agrees after man arm twisting. They head down the stairs, see people they know but just continue to pass on without saying much. They were apart of another sect and everybody knows you don't mix sugar and oil. They were the experimentalists, the black arts of sorts. The dark side, they point and laugh and continue to head down all the surrounding corridors until they reach the exit. Max holds open the door with a sense of urgency, almost struggling and his grip is slipping because of his sweaty palms. Oozing with excitement, his sweat glands know the time of the night, his brain has sent out the right signals.
Max pulls out his pipe which consisted of a swirl of blue squiggly lines intertwining with grey blotches that have changed since they took the virginity of her. Aaron takes the piece and marvels at it, changing his perspective to see every crevice, every dramatic change, and his eyes follow the lines of tangled colors until it leads to the pack. He realizes he is getting caught up in himself and starts to speed up. He pulls out his pouch, shakes it up, pulls out the bud and faces it toward the light and purple pertrudes in both their eyes until their faces light up. They don't have to put it up to their noses because the smell is already potent enough. Aaron carefully breaks it up and puts it in the pit and the gear is ready for battle. He passes it to Max but Max is caught up in his own thoughts.
All the times they have smoked. Back at home they have done it time and time again. They both practically starting at the same time so it was a growing process that they shared together. They would actually poop there money so they could receive a bigger bulk. They were the thinkers, the idealista of there town. The ones who never got trapped by other drugs or other things, always live free. They had a certain spot, out in the wilderness, that they have discovered, completely safe from society's wraith, and they could just lose it out there. They didn't have to stick to some mundane human servitude or try to be like anyone else. They could enjoy the simplicities in life, music, plants, nature, and the twilight of the stars that seemed to surround their perphials with every blink of their blood shot eyes. It was something Max really had to cope with. Now being in the city, being around people, having to put on a face, he most of all, missed his isolation and his sense of freedom.
Then Aaron nudged him, after exhaling smoke that covered their oxygen supply with density, a thick cloud of end trails and puffs of white clouds and a hearty cough. Aaron stared into Max's eyes with his own glassy, wandering eyes and Max knew what to do. He held the piece, and pressed his lighter against the residue, patted it down like sand, and flipped his lighter around and lit it up. He inhaled like it was his last time breathing in air before being sucked into space until the haze filled up both of his longs and started coming out his nose and he just holds it...for eight seconds and exhales but during this he feels the layers of oxygen that reside in between the smoke and it screws up his whole process. He begins to cough and Aaron begins to laugh and then he begins to cough too and Max switched roles and began to laugh.
After doing this, passing it the piece back and forth for at least 10 minutes until it is cashed, they begin to converse about the strangest of things. Space, society, humanity and i think i heard something about worms. Worms and their lack of sight, smell, hearing and how their other senses must be so extreme that it was like being on ecstasy. None of them have taken X but after hearing stories, seeing people on it and just shooting the shit like we all do, they think they know.
Max thinks it is time for bed but Aaron wanted to smoke another bowl. In all common sense, it would be a waste. After smoking for so long, you begin to peak, your high that is. Once you have grasped the concept of it, you can't really push your boundaries. It is already so familiar with you that it can't push you to the extreme like it used to. Those few first times that we all share as if they were war stories. Our generations war stories. Max decides not to, he already pushed his bed time to much as it was and if he smoked another one, he would at least have to stay up for another 2 hours and that was out of the question. It would screw up his pattern, his life and that was something he didn't want to do. Responsibilities come first and that is one reason Max continues to smoke. He can do it without getting caught up in it. He doesn't let it take over his life. Others use it as a crutch, to drown out the noise of life, to forget about the bad because they think the world is collapsing but not Max. He uses his sorcery for good, for relaxation and bonding. He can communicate with people thoroughly and crack jokes. It is his setting, the stonerverse.
Max nudges Aaron before he leaves to tell him that they have a test in American History test tomorrow but Aaron seems to be to lost in his own thoughts. Aaron, after the nudge finally hits his brain 5 seconds later like the ripples after a plunge into a pool, he just looks at Max and head nods. Max seems to recognize this and begins to trail off back to their room. He stumbles a lot on the walk up but makes it up safely and just lays in his bed for the next 30 minutes. Just thinking but not like usual thinking where you lead the direction of the thought but the thought leads the directions of your brain. You barely have any control, it is where the inspiration comes from, the creative spark. But when the thoughts start piling up, burying your mind in strangeness and the scattering because to hard to bear that is when you actually fall asleep. But Max dreamed of the exactly the same thing he was doing, laying in between his sheets, drowning in thought, so when he woke up from the sun reflecting and glaring off the back of his laptop and television he was completely confused. Did he actually go to sleep?
He looks at the time and the exam was in 15 minutes and he really had to get on his shit to make it. He looks at Aaron's bed and sees a past out kid, crumpled like a piece of paper. Max says his name but Aaron doesn't respond, Max then shakes him but Aaron doesn't respond, Max then forgot about it and locked the door. He seemed guilty at times but you have to pick your battles.
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