Plastic Bong

A short little snippet into the world of depression and marijuana use.

“Can you take a hit?”

“Better than you can.” She grabs the moldy plastic bong from his hands and proceeds to fill it up to the brim with the dried herb.

“Pass me the light,” she says while holding the bong to her tired face and extending her arm toward Nick. He passes her the lighter with a huge silly smile on his face, he is impressed. It is easy to impress these folk.

She lights the herb in a circular motion and as the dark brown slowly turns into a glowing red she inhales sharply and it’s all gone. She exhales. A thick cloud of smoke pours out of her mouth as she holds back a cough. 

“I told you,” she coyly says with a smirk. Nick laughs and proceeds to give her a round of applause and a cute little bow. Like I said, these folk are easy to impress.

I push my back up against the wall reshuffle my feet, I’m getting restless. My jeans are too tight and my eyes sting from the smoke in the room.

“Can somebody pass me the damn bong?” I say impatiently. I’ve been waiting my turn for what seems like ages and I really want to get buzzed to get my mind off the constellation of s**t in my mind.

Ann laughs and looks at me with her tilted to the side and hanging back a little, “Patience is a virtue, my friend.”

I take a hit. It isn’t doing the trick just yet. I fill a half bowl and take to lighting it up.

I fill my lungs with smoke and let it all out as though sighing the biggest sigh of relief one can imagine. In and out. And just like that, I was out " out of my mind.

Adrift in a different place, where space and time don’t exist. All the worry is replaced with a slow sense of being and I am at ease. I no longer feel the tightness of my jeans. These easily impressed folk are now the entire planet’s sole population. We sit and talk and laugh " endless and senseless.

My name is X.