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Scribe
Join Date: Sep 2004
Posts: 52
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Opening paragraph
Tony's Corner
On weekends he could be found smoking weed on the corner near Charlie’s candy store. Stoned, he’d just wait for a friend to come along so that he’d have someone to joke around with. Of all our friends he was the most free-spirited, living mainly for only two things—smoking marijuana and laughing. He had that special gift of injecting humor into any story he told, and his remarkable ability made him popular with all of us. We’d ache from laughter every time we ran into him in the street, always wanting to hear more and more of his funny or weird stories, which, by the way, were all true. Anyone running into him on a Saturday or a Sunday, even for just five minutes, would almost always be treated to great weed and far-fetched tales.
I had the opportunity to visit his wacky world one afternoon when I spotted him standing outside the candy store. Quietly, I sneaked up from behind and tapped his shoulder. When he turned around and saw me crouched and laughing, he immediately stretched out his arm and greeted me with a hearty handshake. With the usual broad smile plastered upon his face, he said, “Yo, Joey, you have a nose for smelling reefer. How’d you know I was just about getting ready to light up?” His comment was sweet music to my ears, for I had been hoping he had some pot on him as soon as I noticed him, and I became ecstatic when he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a neatly rolled joint. It was a beautiful sight watching Tony place the joint between his lips and strike a match. We were about to get wasted.
After Tony drew long and hard on the joint, he plucked it from his lips and handed it to me. Quickly, I snatched it from his fingertips and brought it up to my own mouth to feast on. The aroma of the burning marijuana made its way up my nostrils as I inserted the joint between my lips. I inhaled rapidly—once, twice, three times. The weed was harsh and caused me to start coughing immediately. Tony laughed while he watched me coughing uncontrollably from the weed. “Geez, you can’t even handle three hits anymore,” he said, as he watched me try to regain my composure. “Strong stuff,” I said, when I finally stopped coughing. Though I had only three quick tokes on the joint, I was already reeling from it. I returned the joint to Tony, and then I burst into laughter. “Man,” I said giggling, “that’s potent. I’m lit up like a Christmas tree.”
Tony took a few more hits on the joint before brushing some strands of hair away from his eyes. “Hey, you want any more?” He said, extending the joint towards me. “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m feeling good.” With his dark eyes focused on me, he laughed, “Since when do you turn down smoke?” Then, he began to button up his coat. “Getting windy on this corner,” he said, also raising his coat collar. Dressed in a black t-shirt, denim bell bottoms, and black boots, Tony resembled a British rocker. He was tall and thin, with shoulder-length brown hair, and an oval-shaped face adorned with a neatly trimmed beard. Not surprisingly at all, he loved music and was a Beatle fanatic.
Again, Tony drew on the joint, then launching a stream of smoke right past me into the frigid air. “Man, nothing beats this on a day like today,” he chuckled, holding out the joint. Then, his expression suddenly changed and with this puzzled look upon his face, he said, “Hey, Joey, what ever became of Ruth the Hippie? I haven’t seen her around in a while.”
“Oh, she went back home to Pennsylvania last month.”
“I am going to miss her,” he said, disappointedly. “I used to have so much fun up in her apartment.”
“Yeah, we I did.” I said.
“You know, Joey, one night I was up her apartment with a few of the guys, and you know what we did?”
“It couldn’t be good,” I said, grinning.
“Well, we mixed a quarter of an ounce of marijuana with some Betty Crocker cake flour and then baked a cake.”
“That must have been a heck of a cake. Did you guys get high from it?” I said, curious.
“Until this day, I don’t know whether I got high from the cake or not. That is because we also made tea from the marijuana twigs, and we also rolled joints and smoked them while we were drinking the tea and eating the cake.”
“While that sounds like some coffee break,” I said, laughing.
“Well, that was only the beginning of it,” Tony said, eager to tell the rest of the story.
“What do you mean?” I said.
“After we all got stoned, Ruth asks us to carry her broken refrigerator down into the street so the garbage men could take it away in the morning. Well, one guy opens up a window, and the rest of us lift up the refrigerator and toss it right out. Can you imagine walking down the street and seeing a refrigerator flying out of a second-story window?”
“Wow, you guys are crazy,” I said, shaking my head.
Tony didn’t say anything. He took his last few tokes on the joint, walked away from me toward the gutter, and then flipped the roach down between two parked automobiles. When he returned to my side, he started talking again. “Another time, Ruth went home for Thanksgiving Holiday, and she left me with the keys to her apartment. Well, I go down to Greenwich Village where I pick up this girl. I take her back to Ruth’s apartment, figuring I’m going to get laid there. But, the bitch turns out to be a transvestite. It pulls out a dog leash and collar from its handbag and wants to put the collar around my neck, leash me, and have me walk around the floor on all fours behaving like a dog.”
“That’s insane,” I said, laughing hysterically.
“The son-of-a-bitch even wanted me to bark.”
“You find all these weirdos,” I said, unable to stop laughing. “So, what happened eventually?”
“I threw her out of the apartment. I mean, I threw him out. And, he is lucky I didn’t beat the crap out of him.” Tony said, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “Imagine, a fucking guy leading me on like that. And, wanting me to act like a dog, too.”
“That is funny,” I said, staring at the bewildered expression on his face.
“Tell me about it,” Tony said. “But, I’m sorry that Ruth went home. I am going to miss her.”
“I am going to miss her too,” I said, extending my hand towards him. “Hey, Tony, I am going to go. I appreciate the head, thanks."
“Any time,” he said, shaking my hand. “If you are not doing any thing later, you know where to find me.”
“Right here,” I laughed, as I watched him unbutton his coat, reach into his shirt pocket, and pull out another joint.
Last edited by Robinjazz : 11-02-2008 at 05:57 PM.
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