“I don’t have any!” whined Jake.
“Come on, you must have some?” I pleaded.
“I’m dry, and I can’t get any until Monday.”
“You know anyone else?”
“Shit, what am I going to do?”
“That’s not my problem.”
I paused, contemplating how boring tonight was going to be without any weed, and Friday of all days.
“Look, tell you what. I’ll take you to where I meet the guy and I dunno, I may see one of my back up contacts,” Jake relented.
“Thank you! I owe you man, I’ll see you in ten,” I said relieved.
I hung up the phone and looked around my room for my wallet and hoodie. The room was untidy, as you’d expect of an unemployed part-time student of nineteen. The single bed covered in laundry, which I slept under, it was something primal and cave-like, that was my excuse and I was sticking to it.
My Hollywood style dressing table, it’s mirror surrounded by big bulbs, took up practically the rest of the room. The laptop sat on top, also covered in clothes.
I unlocked my bedroom door and raced down the stairs.
“I’m going out, Mum,” I said as I unchained the front door.
“Don’t be too late, and if you’re drinking, be quiet when you come in,” she replied.
I pushed the door shut and left the central terrace house in the middle of suburbia.
It was already dark, the yellow sodium lights warmed up and spilling their haunting radiance on the concrete below.
I lived on a small street, cars flanked both sides of the road, so that only one lane was left for traffic. This meant that driving along them was sometimes slower than walking, constantly pulling into spaces to let cars go by. This didn’t apply to me as I couldn’t drive and had no intension of learning.
Jake’s flat was a five minute walk from my house and he had a car. He’d be driving us into the centre, to the more seedy part of town. I always got nervous when looking to score, never knowing what’ll happen. A friend was ripped off once, he paid good money for a brown bag full of small pieces of paper. Fair play to him, he chased after him over a pedestrian flyover, but gave up when the guy pulled a knife.
I turned left down Flowerdale Road, the longest part of the walk, but Jake’s flat was at the end.
A car pulled up to my right, I looked back as I passed, the driver staring at me like I am some thug. Well, fuck you too buddy, you and your prickish Beamer.
I pulled my hood up over my head in an effort to filter out the outside world. Why is it okay for society to stereotype teenagers as thugs, but do that about a race and it’s against the law; double standards if you ask me.
My breath condensed in the cool night air as my brisk pace warmed me from the outside in. Jake was waiting outside his building, he checked his watch. This irked me, it’s not like I had kept him waiting.
“Hey,” I said as I greeted him.
“Sup,” is all he mustered as he stepped off the pavement and unlocked his Volvo.
I opened the passenger door and extremely strong air freshener assaulted my nose.
“Fuck, what the hell is that smell?” I asked repulsed.
“You force me to go out, on a Friday, to help you buy some weed and all you say is that my car reeks? How about a little thanks?” Jake lambasted.
“Sorry, man. Thanks for taking time out of your Friday to help me out,” I offered, a little embarrassed.
He pulled out into the middle of the road and had a traffic free run to the end of the street to the main road.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he turned left onto the dual-carriageway.
“A little place called the Blacksmith Quarter, but you probably know it as the place where the King’s Quarry is.”
“Oh yeah, I know where you mean, I haven’t been there for a while.”
He pulled off into a side street opposite the pub, turned the car around to face the building and parked. We could clearly see the King’s here and make out the people who entered and exited the premises.
“So, who are we looking for?” I asked.
“A guy called Tiny,” Jake confirmed.
“Let me guess, he’s huge?”
“You could say that.”
“What does he wear?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?” Jake responded irritated, “What a stupid question.”
I shut up and waited for him to speak again. Ten minutes passed watching the building.
“Look, there he is,” Jake said pointing through the glass at a large man in his thirties wearing a white tracksuit travelling towards the pub, “Gimme your money and I’ll go in.”
“Really, you don’t want me to do it?” I asked shocked.
“Yeah, he doesn’t know you and I don’t want to deal with that right now.”
“Thanks man,” I said.
I dug out my wallet and took out a twenty pound note, “Keep the change,” I offered.
Jake smiled back at me, deposited the money in his left jeans pocket and exited the vehicle.
I watched him jog from the car as Tiny entered the building via the large port-holed front door; Jake slowed to a walk.
After five minutes I got a bit anxious, the longer these things take, the more likely you are to get caught. After ten minutes I felt my heart rate start to increase, visibly beating in my chest. People walked past the car and peered in, looking me directly in the eye. I thought to myself they knew why I was here and as they get out of sight they’re going to call the police and dob us in.
Panic set in, first in the hands, my little fingers tingled. The sensation spread up my arms, unnerving me. I crossed my arms in an attempt to stop it, my hands felt cold. My face was next along with a further increase in heart rate. I squirmed in my seat, getting more and more worked up.
Hurry the fuck up!
I watched as Tiny exited the premises. That’s not right.
A police car came into view on the main road and appeared to slow as it approached the building. I fumbled for my phone to warn Jake, but I dropped it on the floor.
By the time I picked up the device, the police car was gone. A wave of relief flooded my body and I let out a deep sigh. My panic fell back, allowing me a little composure. The door opened and out came Jake. He looked both ways and crossed road and trotted to the car.
Fifteen fucking minutes.
I kept my mouth shut, he done me a solid and I was glad.
“All sorted,” he said as he swung himself into the car, put on his belt and started the engine.
He pulled out onto the main road.
“Is that beer I smell on your breath?” I asked confused.
“Yeah, Tiny didn’t have any, he was waiting for his own connection. So I had to wait a while, it didn’t bother you did it?” he asked.
“No, not at all,” I lied, “What did you get?”
“It’s a bit odd, it’s pretty dark. But it’s definitely got that skunky smell.”
Jake threw me over the bag. The contents were pitch black. I opened it up and turned my nose away.
“Holy shit! That’s fucking strong!” I said surprised.
“Yeah, now put it away. I wouldn’t mind to try some when we get back, if that’s ok?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I felt much more at ease now it was over, however I still couldn’t help watching the cars behind me, seeing if they were following us.
We walked up the three flights of stairs to Jake’s flat. He put the key in the Yale lock and opened the door. His whole flat had the appearance of my bedroom, all one bedroom, shower room and living/kitchenette of it.
A footlong pink bong greeted us on the low glass coffee table in the centre of the room.
“Go and pack that bad boy up, I need a slash.” Jake ordered as he walked across the living room.
I sat on the red faux leather sofa covered in small burns. I took the bag out and under the brighter light of the living room I inspected the bag. Emptying the contents on the table I separated it out. No seeds, that’s a good sign, but black as the ace of spades, not like anything I’d seen before.
I put a good amount in the bong and lit it up. The smoke was smooth and tasty. I took one more lungful as Jake re-entered the room.
The typical numbing of my face and body crept up on me as my body sunk into the couch. I handed the bong over and observed Jake finish off the bowl.
He leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes.
Oh shit, I’ve had too much.
You know that feeling you get when you’re too high? You don’t feel comfortable in your own skin, you fidget, words no longer make sense and can even offend? The anxiety from earlier came back with the cavalry. The worst thing you can do when too high is to panic. Never think of the word panic.
All I could think of was the word panic.
I began to breath heavily, to hyper ventilate. My vision becames speckley, then grey, then I passed out.
I opened my eyes to find myself on the floor. Pushing myself to my feet, I stood. I felt unbelievably stoned.
I was fuzzy and couldn’t think straight. The process of walking through the laundry that litters the floor was mind-bendingly hard. I found Jake, head in the toilet.
“Dude, are you okay man?” I asked as I tugged on his shoulder.
Jake fell off the bowl and onto his back on the floor.
I reeled backward in terror when I saw his face, or the lack of it anyway. His smooth featureless face peered back at me, like a flesh coloured egg.
I screamed, the most manly scream I could muster, Jake didn’t budge.
I rushed out of the flat and slammed the door behind me.
I sped down the stairs, the action completely blurred in my drugged out mind.
Out into the street the freezing air tried to sober me, but I was too far gone.
What time is it?
I check my phone, it was 12:11am. I’d been out for over three hours and I still felt higher than I had ever before.
I walked as quickly as I felt comfortable doing. A car pulled up on my left to let a car through, and I stared at the driver. The man’s face flickered, it changed and morphed into something else, I couldn’t make it out at that angle. As I passed and looked back, he met my gaze and his face is different, it’s reptilian, his lizard like eyes widened as I saw the comprehension contort his face.
I turned and ran. I heard the car’s tyres screech as it accelerated. I rounded the corner and jumped over the first wall I could find to hide behind.
Peering through a bush I watched as the car turned down the road and slowed to a crawl, it’s lizard-like driver scanning the road, looking for me. It didn’t see me. I waited until I couldn’t hear the engine before jumping back over.
I put up my hood and stuck my hands in my pockets. I lowered my head and followed the floor moving underneath me.
Without warning my shoulder thudded into a person who walked straight into me.
“Watch it!” I yelled.
“Ssss-orry, ssss-onny,” said an serpentine voice of an old lady.
She wore a blue dress with a white cardigan. Her white hair piled on top of her green scaly head, she blinked and I winced as the third eye-lids swiped across her eyeballs.
I audibly gasped as she reached out a claw.
“Sssss-top, you can sssss-ee me?” she continued to hiss.
I span on my heel and hightailed it out of there.
I spotted my house and increased my speed.
I overshot the front gate and stopped a couple feet past. The old lady had turned down my street, but her failing vision prevented her from seeing me.
Vaulting over the front wall I ran to the front door, frantically trying to put the key in the lock. The keys fell out of my hands and onto my foot. I reached down to pick them up.
The second attempt was successful. I entered the room and slammed the door behind me. My heart thumped in my throat, white dots clouded my vision. I waited, plastered to the door like an extra layer of paint until my heart started to slow down.
I walked through the living room on the way to the kitchen and saw my mum and step dad sat in the living room watching T.V, his arm around my mum’s shoulders.
“You’re home early,” my mum said as she turned to look at me.
I studied her face, it was normal.
“Are you okay? you’re looking at me funny.”
“I’m fine, thanks mum,” I lied again.
I took a glass off the draining rack and filled it with water from the tap. I downed the drink in one.
Entering back into the living room, my step dad turned to look at me. He did a double take, I stood frozen in place.
His large yellow eyes stared at me. His sinister mouth widened into a broad smile. His forked tongue extended and waved up and down as it mocked me.
“You ssss-leeep well ssss-on,” he sneered.
“Have a good night,” my mother added.
I pushed up against the back wall and sidled along behind the couch, behind my step father.
He turned back to the TV. I heard the slithering of his voice as he talked to my mother. I shuddered and sprinted up the stairs.
In my bedroom, I locked my door and moved the dressing table in front of it to block it shut.
I scooped up all the laundry around the room and threw it on the bed. I got under the covers and hid.
It was a good hour until I got to sleep.
My alarm on my phone went off at 9am. I fished around in the pocket of the jeans I was still wearing. I shut it off.
Thank God, I’m not stoned any more.
I checked my phone. One text message, from Jake.
“Where did you go last night? I was so stoned I fell asleep in the toilet. Phone me when you’re up.”
I was relieved Jake was okay. I felt really bad about last night.
Thinking back that weed must be laced with something, maybe PCP or LSD.
I spot the dressing table barricading the door and laugh, what a tool.
Dragging it away, it squeaks on the wooden floor. I unlocked the door go down the stairs to the kitchen.
The cereal boxes, milk and bowls had been left out for me. I sat in the chair nearest the door and contemplated, which one to choose. I heard the sound of footsteps descend the stairs two at a time, and a thunk as the last couple were jumped.
“Hello son, what are you going to have for breakfast?” my step father said from behind me.
“I’m not sure ye…” I trailed off as I felt the wet and rough surface of a tongue tasting the back of my head.
Anyone want to buy nearly a full eighth of some super dank shit? It’ll make you see things…