#writinghigh

The night air is crisp and cool, and our breath was easily discernable between each word spoken. My brother and I sat corner to corner, the object in question between us. “You can green it,” his tone is that of generosity, mixed with malevolence. Cautiously I grip it, pull it close, light, and inhale. This was our third bowl, and we were already blazed out of our minds. Feeling my limit, as we neared the end of it, I retired to my chamber to end the night with some lighthearted television comedy. It could have been an hour. It could have been only ten minutes. Three swift knocks on my door, and enters my brother once more. “So, uhh,” he’s a refined one, well versed, “Wanna fuckin…walmart?” I spend a moment, pooling my thoughts, unscrambling this puzzle, this conundrum before me, though my lips were quicker, “What?” “Said, you wanna…go to…y'know…walmart?” He was in no shape to be driving. And i was certainly not abled enough to be behind the wheel, but I acquiesce, and we drive, anxiously aware of the threat that we could be stopped and incarcerated at any moment. We reach our destination safely, and only now are we really feeling the full brunt of our previous endeavor. “The fuck you need at walmart?” I asked, peering over to him, trying to not appear as stoned as we both obviously were. “Like…CDs n shit. For my car.” He retorted, picking his way down the aisle, until finally we get before the CDs, “Should I get the Memorex? Or the other brand?” I scan the products. Same amount. But the Memorex is three dollars more. Obviously we ain’t doin that. Nuh uh. Not today homie. “Get the…fuckin…y'know…offbrand shit.” We argue slightly in front of the merchandise, before he finally gives in and grabs the offbrand. We hit our pillows the moment we get home, and sober up through the night.