Lost Gen 2.0

A Story by Amanda

Leo's just an average millennial trying to get through his day.

It was Tuesday evening when Leo woke up. He rolled over in his queen-sized mattress and was greeted by the sour breath of his fluffy, white dog. She greeted him into the new light by licking his face. He covered his mouth and nose with the palm of his pale hand to deter his dog’s eager licks. She was anxious for the start of the day; it was a promise of unknown adventures to be had.

He pushed away her face to unconsciously check his phone. There was the usual amount of notifications which consisted of a small envelope, white ghost, cloud, and camera. They were all impersonal interactions; it was always of someone liking another work picture for either a political reason or because the picture was pleasant to the eye.

Leo just swept the notifications aside and played the song that ran through his mind. The quick beats and fast paced rap lyrics contained a slight twang of an unidentifiable foreign accent that flooded out of his wireless speakers. He enjoyed his stress free mornings, or rather afternoons. His movements were languid; there was no need for him to rush. He was not needed anywhere, any time soon.

Leo scrolled down his phone, passing by various pornographic and artsy images. It didn’t take long for someone to knock on his door before entering. A lean figure stuck his brown head in the door.

“You up?”

Leo raised his sparse eyebrows.

“What do you think?”

The boy’s name was Christian and he was seventeen years-old. He stepped into the room, kicking aside the various clothes scattered on the floor. His skin was dry and dark like a worn leather boot because of his athletic recreations. He sat on the corner of the unkempt bed that his brother occupied. He wore a black shirt with a sports logo and crimson athletic shorts that shimmered in the sunlight.

“You got tree n***a?” he asked.

“You know it b***h,” Leo said. “Wanna burn?”

“What do you think?”

“Grab the bong and pack it.”

Leo rolled over to his side and stretched his limbs as his younger brother searched for the glass piece in the closet. His body ached from the start of the day.

“Remind me that I have to walk Jessie later,” Leo said as he patted the dog on the head.

“Sure,” he said. “I can’t believe they have that stupid Senior Week bullshit. Seriously, what’s the point?”

“Like I know. I didn’t have anything like that. It’s one of the perks when you go to continuation school.”

Chris finally got his hands on the bong his brother bought. She was half a foot tall and entirely clear with three percolators. She was kept in an old backpack and wrapped in layers of bubble wrap and thinning towels being held together by threads. Although the bong had simple aesthetics, she did the job. And she was Leo’s first water pipe�"a milestone in the stoner community.

Chris took the cannabis buds from the Mason jar under the bed and filled the bowl with the two week old plant. The buds were dry as the crystals dulled with age, but the plant was still pleasantly sticky. It was no longer full of the moisture, indicating it could not have died more than a week ago.

Once the bowl was packed, Chris closed the door and placed one of the towels on the crack under the door. He took a lighter out of his pocket and flicked the dial spin to initiate a spark. With his finger on the gas and mouth in the bong’s hole, he inhaled as the flame hovered over one third of the bowl’s contents. He paused and pulled the bowl out of the chamber before clearing the piece of any lingering smoke. He exhaled the remaining smoke into the room. Immediately, the musk of the burnt plant filled the air entering the fibers of their clothes, carpet, and clinging onto the pores in the walls.

Leo didn’t care. He welcomed the stench. He took his own hit, allowing the hot smoke to enter his lungs so the tetrahydroncannabinol could slow down the neurotransmitters and block synapses in his mind.

“Is Karen coming?” Leo asked after he exhaled.

“Naw, she can’t find a ride.”

“She’s not going to walk?”

“Karen? F**k no. Plus she actually goes to class to learn or whatever.”

Chris laughed. His eyes were already glassy and red.

“Man, this weed is sic.”

“She said it was fire,” Leo said, referring to his dealer.

“Do you know what it’s called?”

“I dunno. Fire?”

Chris shook his head and his scrawny shoulders bounced as he screeched in laughter.

“Naw, you f*****g n****r. That means your weed is hella good. Don’t be a f*****g idiot.”

Leo blinked with the bong in his hands.

“You’re the f*****g idiot, b***h.”
Chris ignored his brother, wanting to smoke more than argue. So he didn’t say another word and let Leo take his hit. He did so, but with too much fervor. Leo’s hacking cough caused his brother to glance at him with concern, but quickly rolled his eyes when it became clear Leo would live.

Chris asked, “When’s Dad coming home?”

“Later, like at five,” Leo said as he tossed the remnants of the black and grayed plant in an old fast food cup that contained flat cola. “We’re fine. Relax.”

But Chris couldn’t. Maybe it was something in the strain they were smoking, but his mind was fixated on the possibility of their parents catching them. They’ve been caught several times before and their parents’ patience was wearing thin. The only thought that calmed him was that even though they lived in a townhouse with incredibly thin walls, their parents barely spoke to the neighbors because of the language barrier. Their English was far from perfect so they only used it when it was necessary at their jobs�"busing tables and throwing out someone else’s trash.

“Another bowl?” Leo asked.

“Yeah.”

Chris hoped that smoking more would take the edge off. Of course, that was only one outcome. The other was he would become incredibly worse and need to sleep off his high before trying again in order to reach the results he wanted.

Leo packed the bowl in silence so that he could properly concentrate on the task at hand. Each of the buds in the jar spoke to him, all of them wanted to be smoked into oblivion. It was their purpose, just like it was his to smoke them. This was kismet.

When he was done, Leo took a smooth hit. The heat of the smoke no longer bothered his throat. His body was numb thanks to the cannabis’s effects. He smiled to himself and passed the bong to his brother who was in a daze.

“Chris. Wake up. What the hell are you doing?”

Chris shook his head and held the piece in his hands. “Dude. You’re twenty,” he said.

“Yeah so?”

“You’re going to be twenty-one in a week.”

Leo cleared his throat before he said, “What’s your point?”

“Is this what you imagined your life would be like?”

Chris was holding onto the bong too tight. He could feel the glass straining in his hands, but it was the only way he could express his excitement.

“What do you mean?” Leo asked, running his fingers through his dog’s white fur.

Chris let go of the bong, which swung to the left, hitting the inside of his thigh. With his hands up in the air he cried, “This! All of this. You smoke all day and just kick it. And now you’ll get drank too? That’s chill as f**k man. I want that.”

Leo grimaced.

“Why?”

“What the f**k you mean, why? Why what?”

Leo sighed and threw his head against his headboard. There was a quiet clang of the wood hitting against the wall. He looked up at the smooth white ceiling. He knew it should have hurt, even a little, but he couldn’t feel anything.

“Why’s this the life you want?” he asked. He turned to his brother. His eyes were the color of a kindling ember, glistening in irritation. “I don’t have a real job, I’ve been going to community college for four years, and I still don’t have a license. What’s so great about that?”

“But your poems are dope as f**k. If you just practice spitting more you can be a rapper, n***a. You’ll be f*****g rich. F**k school and s**t.” Chris laughed. The bad moment in his high had passed and he picked up the bong by the neck and took another hit. When he cleared her, he continued, “If I had your game I would just f*****g do it. All you have to do is try with some YouTube videos or some s**t, you know? And then bam! You’ll be famous! We’ll be rolling in tree for days!”

He laughed again. He squawked like a delirious hyena deprived of sustenance. He shoved the bong to his brother and kept giggling.

“That’s not how that s**t works you know.”

Chris wiped the tears from his eyes and said, “How do you know? You don’t even try fool.”

“You’re right, man. What can it hurt, right?” Leo smiled. “We’ll go all over the country and just be high as f**k.”

Leo took the last hit from the nameless bong. The sun’s rays shot through the window, indicating it was much later in the day. The heat from the streaks of light danced across his skin making him wish that he could just lay here and take a nap, soaking in the sun. His gaze went outside the window, looking down from the two story townhouse. It was in the midst of a tiny cluster of homes in a much larger community. He could make out the hills just a mile away, circling the town in its embrace. The grass was yellowed from the lack of rain and he could barely make out the two white cows in the distance. Thanks to the drought, the once lush, green grass died out. Everyone was stuck with the desiccated landscape that once promised limitless growth.

Leo smiled as blew the smoke in Jessie’s face, causing her to squint and pant in excitement. The dog’s body was sprawled on the bed with her tongue lolling out. Her tiny black eyes were glassy as she wagged her tail with ease.

After two bowls from the bong, the air in the room was thick and stuffy; both of the boys begun to sweat. Chris had taken off his shirt, leaving him only in his white wife beater; exposing his bony frame. Leo on the other hand was still partially in the covers, but sprawled out to disperse the heat.

“It’s done.” Leo pushed the bong aside. “Put it away n***a.”

“Fosho. Are you going to walk Jessie?” Chris asked, receiving the bong from his brother.

Leo shrugged.

“Maybe later.”