Chapter 3

I stood by the mailbox waiting for the headlights of the Prius to appear and spray me down with light. I thumbed at the mailbox handle and stared in through my neighbor to the East, Mrs. Couch. Her windows were unlit save for one, the living room, and the old lady sat in her big dark couch, her face pale from the TV screen, fiddling with something in her hands. I remember last week I had helped her dispose of some leaves that she had raked, and even for an old woman she raked a s**t ton of leaves. And I remember looking at her old hands, the overwhelming appearance of decay and wear and use. I looked in through her window, completely obliviously like I was in a dream state. The odd square of light that shined through the big dark house resembled an eye, staring at me and me staring right back into its pupil. And the old lady with her dying hands was the pupil that sucked in all of the light and made her face appear bright and vague, as if she was a young person. A person that was alive, and well and healthy and mobile. When the headlights finally turned the corner I awoke from this dream state and all at once---

I picked up the bong off the concrete driveway and looked into the window again, but the light was off. My heart sank slightly and I felt a lump in my throat. I ran towards the headlights and when I realized it wasn't Lucas I put the red neon bong behind my back.

The car slowed down, and stopped. No, this was no goddamn Prius.

“Dad what are you doing?” The splitting image of Andrea as a teenager looked out the window of the small Camero. 

“Oh hey Annie! I was just chasing off some kids smoking in front of our road.” I revealed the bong from behind my back, as proof. “Yeah that's right, punks! Run!”

“I didn't see anyone run by.”

“They just hopped a fence.”

“Cool story, Stefan.”

“How was the party?” I ask, but Annie turned up her music and drove forward into our driveway. I watched her walk into the house, a tall skinny girl with long dark hair, and disappear into the front door.

I heard a familiar car horn and my neck shot to my right and my muscles and tendons f*****g had a war in my neck and the Prius pulls up silently and I get in the car squeezing my neck.

“Hey, Steven! Hey man, hey, yeah!”

“Drive the other direction please.”

“Uhmm, yeah tubular advice Mr. Greene.”

Lucas stopped and reversed and stopped and drove East and I watched as the light in Mrs. Couch's house flicker on and off.

“So this movie I saw---Hey nice bong man!”

“Oh yeah.” I look down in my hands, being a little surprised when I realize I brought the bong with me. “I, uhh, bought this today. Not even an hour ago.”

“Sweet lets get some H2O induced weed smoking going on right her in ma car! F**k yeah!” Lucas turned up the radio to something that sounded like the Beatles, but was way to intense to be from the sixties.

“You got any water for the bong?” I ask.

“Yeah check under your seat.” Lucas says, eyes focused on the road.

I looked at the floor of unnecessarily random miscellaneous items. There was a text book, CD's, wrinkled paper, a cup from Sonic, a lighter, a couple 50 cent pieces, an old Batman comic book, an odd looking left shoe, a photograph of some girl, a straw, a fake hand, and pieces of marijuana sprinkled on top. I looked in the back seat and almost threw up. When you lose something and cant find it, this is where it ends up. I felt under the seat and something either bit me or stabbed me. My hand sprang back and I looked at the swelling pain on my thumb. 

“S**t, something just bit me.” A steaming hiss whispered behind my feet and I my legs jumped up on the seat nervously. “What the f**k is that, Lucas?”

“Oh that's just Paul Rudd.”

“What? What the f**k Lucas I'm serious.” I glared at his face, a face that only a few years ago was young and ambitious and hairless was now covered with a dark beard. He was no longer a kid, or a student of mine. He looks older now, like an adult. 

“No, I'm serious. I'm sorry if Paul Rudd scared you, I should have told you about him.” He reached behind the bottom of my seat and pulled out a long lizard. 

“He didn't just scare me he bit my thumb, a*****e. Why the f**k do you have a lizard in here?”

“He's not just any f*****g lizard Steve, hes an iguana.”

“Is this ugly dinosaur poisonous?” I gripped my hand and was trying to squeeze the pain out of my thumb.

“No, Steven. He bit me today too but that's just cause he ain't never been in no Prius, and he ain't never listened to the Vines.” Lucas petted the green lizard with his ringed fingers and sang along to the music.

“Why did you stop here?”

“I thought we were going to smoke this bloody looking bong here.” He pointed at the glass. shaft in my crotch. 

“Oh yeah. Uhmm, we need some water.”

“Check under your seat, I know there's some sorta liquid down yonder I can hear them splashes when I drive.”  

“Last time I checked under the seat I got bit by a f*****g iguana.”

“You're not going to get bit this time, I swear, haha!”

“I better not goddammit,” I stuck my hand tentatively under the seat and felt a plastic bottle instead of the rough skin of a lizard. I revealed a water bottle and opened it and drank a little. After three nice swallows I poured the water into the tip of the bong and then set it by my feet.

“Weed?” My hand raises questioningly.

“Right. It's, right, over, here.” His hands searched the dim light of the car and found an orange bottle. “Lemme see that there glass.”

I handed him the bong and yawned, looking out the window into the yard of some random house. I stared out at a single window and thought about Mrs. Couch. I closed my eyes and tried to shut off the paranoid trepidation. Then the strong herbal smell filled the car and warmed my conscience.

“Hey man I went to the shop and you weren't working. Isn't your shift during this time of day?”

“Yeah but I got fired last week man. The f*****g owner found out I sold some cigarettes to some Freshmen.”

“Oh really? That's a shame.”

“Yeah I don't really want to talk about it, I just want to smoke this ganja and listen to this music.”

The album ended, and Lucas pulled out the CD and put it in a case of a thousand other CD's. The night was so dark, and I was so high, I felt the earth look up to me, suspended at a high elevation in my brain. I read this sentence in mind and let out a series of small, strained laughs, and then I realized that my neck doesn't hurt anymore. I feel the air on my dry teeth as I inhale, and its kind of uncomfortable. Lucas looks at me and laughs and his eyes are borderline Asian, painted red.

“Lucas, look thanks man, I needed this. Long day today.”

“I, uhmm. I. Uhmm. I, I bet. I bet you did. I bet you did have a uhmm, long, day.

“Hey can I buy a couple grams off of you? School starts tomorrow and I have to put up with those little s***s for another semester.” We both laughed together for the first time, real genuine laughs. Lucas is a great guy when you're under the influence of anything. Hes an annoying retard in reality. 

“Yeah man, haha, I know exactly what you mean, and it's no problem. The guy I bought Paul Rudd from sold me this ounce of this s**t called the Devils Vegetable. Sounds intense right man? F**k yeah!” Lucas stuck out his clenched hand for a knuckle pound. Our knuckles embraced in a stoner embracing moment, when two stoners make a deal, and the deal is in session, I feel that it is a necessary step to complete the deal, solidly and completely, with no loose ends, and no one gets fucked over.

I got out my wallet and we traded green for green, paper for plant, and Lucas drove back to my house slowly, the speed of the car and the speed of the music were perfectly synchronized and the THC filled joy was absolutely absurd. I pocketed the plastic bag of the Devils Vegetable that Lucas gave me and opened the door after shaking his hand. I expressed my appreciation for our business tonight, and apologized for being an a*****e earlier, if I had came off that way. Lucas smiled modestly and whispered Have a nice night Mr. Greene, and after he handed me the red bong he and the Prius disappeared. Not even the moon saw him.