Authors: Victoria Sawyer
“This stuff is potent shit this time around,” he breathes,
handing the pipe to Samantha next as the smoke he releases from his lungs wafts
over the room, smelling sweet and earthy.
This is pretty interesting and I’m actually excited that I’m
going to get to try. I watch as the pipe circles the room, almost everyone
taking a toke. When it finally gets to me, I’m still not sure what to do even
though I saw everyone else handle the pipe. I hold it awkwardly, trying to
imitate them.
“Ok, I feel really dumb, but I’ve never smoked before,” I
finally admit, holding the pipe gingerly between my fingers. Andy laughs.
“Are you sure you want to try?” he asks. “No pressure!” I
look around the room, everyone is leaning back now against the couch or chairs,
eyes half closed, little smiles playing at their lips and they look so
comfortable and peaceful. Seth grins at me, looking hilarious, his eyes barely
open.
“It’s awesome…mannnnn…,” he mumbles, giving me a thumbs up,
his face looking like a grinning Cheshire cat, the light glinting off his
glasses.
“Yeah, I want to try,” I declare, smiling back at Seth, trying
to hold back a laugh, finally getting up the nerve to try something new. Andy
shows me how to hold the pipe, light the bowl and inhale all at the same time.
“Hold it in your lungs as long as you can,” he instructs, as
I try and fail miserably, my lungs expelling the toxic, yet sweet smelling
smoke almost as soon as it enters. “Takes some practice,” says Andy as I cough
and cough, smiling suddenly as the sensations hit me almost immediately. I have
never felt like this before. It’s like consciousness expanding, almost dizzy
but in a good way. I ponder these new feelings for a moment and realize that
I’m light headed, sort of blurred at the edges.
Hannah decides she wants to try too, and after everyone has
a smoke, even Jared, Andy gets up and puts a movie into the DVD player and we
all sit back to watch
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
. The movie is very
funny. In fact, everything is hilarious to me and I find myself laughing out
loud at funny parts of the movie along with everyone else. Suddenly out of the
blue, hunger grips me.
“I’m hungry,” I say to Jared with a smile. Somehow the ice
has melted between us now that we’re high and we’ve talked back and forth as
part of the group. So I’m taking a bold step, talking to him directly again,
hoping that things can somehow be normal despite our weird start at the frat.
“What’ve you got to snack on?” I ask loudly as he smiles at
me. Andy and Seth laugh, trading glances.
“Classic symptoms,” says Andy with a huge smirk. “The
munchies! I hope asshole has something good in his fridge!” Jared looks over at
his brother, casually giving him the middle finger before getting up off the
couch to lope to the kitchen and see what he has around for “the munchies.” I
follow him in, eager to see what he might dig up.
“OK,” he says after a few minutes of rummaging through
fridge and cabinets, “all I’ve got is a few oranges, some microwave popcorn and
more beer. Whaddya want?” he asks, laughing as Seth and Andy come sweeping into
the room, their socks slipping over the linoleum floor.
“Popcorn, NOW!” demands Andy, grabbing the bag that is
dangling out of Jared’s fingers and popping it into the microwave all in one
smooth move. I laugh at their antics. Somehow everything is funnier. Seth pulls
a face, grabbing an orange off the counter, handing it to me.
“For you, my lady,” he murmurs in a low voice, pretending to
sweep off some kind of invisible hat from his head.
“Thank you,” I say graciously, trying not to giggle. I feel
so funny. I don’t feel like panicking at all, I feel free of that kind of
worry. The movie is still playing in the background as we make our way back to
our seats. I start to peel the orange, my fingers moving slowly over the rind
to reveal the juicy fruit inside. It smells fragrant, sweet and acidic and the
first piece I pop into my mouth is delicious, a sensual overload of juicy,
tangy and sugary. I swear I have never tasted anything so good in my entire
life.
“This is wicked good,” I say, pulling off a wedge and
handing it to Jared on the couch. He smiles at me, popping the piece in his
mouth.
“Oh man, that is good,” he agrees, “Give me more of that,
woman,” he demands, putting his hand out to me, wiggling his fingers.
I laugh, pulling the orange close to my body to protect it. “Get
your own, punk,” I say, giving him a studied glare. He laughs and jumps up from
his seat, hyper-active child style, hilarious for a guy his size. I laugh even
harder, leaning back in my seat, the orange clutched close, getting sticky
juice all over my fingers.
“Give it, I don’t want to peel my own,” he says, bending
over me, reaching out to grab it from my fingers.
“No!” I say back to him, still laughing, batting his hands
away with my free arm. He reaches over me, grabbing, grasping, still unable to
quite get the orange away. He backs off for a moment, looking down at me with
an evil glint in his eyes and then before I even know what’s happened, he’s
squeezed down next to me in the chair.
“You get outta here, beat it,” I say, holding the orange
away from me now on the opposite side from where he’s sitting. He struggles to
get it, tickling me on my side with one hand while the other finally grabs the
orange out of my hand. Now that he’s got it, he’s hoarding it. I slump for a
moment after he steals it and then realize that I am sitting in a fairly small
chair
with him
. His body is warm and inviting, snuggle worthy and he’s
to-die-for good looking.
“Give it back, you big bully,” I say, turning toward him,
laying down several solid punches on his hard chest. It hurts my hand more than
it hurts him because he’s laughing, holding my orange up with one hand while
feeding himself a wedge with his other. Clearly getting me to stop punching him
is not on his agenda right now. “Bastard!” I say, punching a bit harder,
laughing, until he pops a slice of orange into my mouth to shut me up. Surprised
I stop, chew my orange slice and think about getting up to see if he has any
more. But sitting with him is too nice and I really don’t want it to end. I
need this orange to last forever because it seems like we’re finally over the
awkwardness hump. I settle down next to him and he hands me another slice of
orange, while we watch the movie.
It’s the strangest thing because pretty soon I’m dozing off
a bit, cuddled up next to him. I can’t believe I could ever feel this
comfortable around him. But I am comfortable. High as a kite and a drunk on
wine and I feel warm and cozy.
“Hey, sleepyhead, it’s still early,” he says finally and I
feel the rumble in his chest, more than I hear the words. I crack open my eyes
and notice that the movie is off and music is playing and everyone is smoking
another bowl. Jared’s asking me if I want more and I nod yes and take the bowl
from his hand. I sit up straighter, take my hit and suddenly get a new dose of
energy. I pass the bowl along to the next person and lean back against Jared
again. It seems too right, I don’t want to get up.
“So,” he says casually as I turn to look at him, “What’s
your story, Victoria? You got a major here?”
“Yea…I’m straight up English,” I say with a grin.
“Straight up, huh?” he says, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah I like my English straight up, I don’t mess around
with this shit,” I say with a smile. He laughs. “Well, what the hell are you studying,
Mr. Perfect?” Me? his eyes seem to say as he grins.
“Mr. Perfect is studying civil engineering. He’s a Goddamned
genius and obviously highly good looking as well. He’s got it all,” he says,
trying to be totally serious. I roll my eyes.
“Sure, and Mr. Perfect is highly conceited and needs to be
brought down a peg or two,” I reply, giving him another quick punch in the
chest.
“Oww, Vicky, that hurts, in here,” he says, all seriousness,
holding his hand over his heart.
“Haha, funny man. Who gave you leave to call me by my
‘Christian’ name, Sir?” I ask in a fake British accent. Now he rolls his eyes
and smirks.
“Don’t pull any of that English major crap on me. It won’t
work. I’ve met your kind before,” he says, pretend glaring at me.
“My kind? My kind? What the hell does that mean? Discrimination!
I call discrimination!” I say in a loud voice, poking at him. He laughs.
“Discrimination my Dear Watson?” says Andy in his own
British accent, jumping up from the couch next to us in one quick movement,
suddenly listening in on our conversation. “I do declare that if discrimination
is in the air, it is time to….DANCE!” he says, smiling at me and Jared like a
lunatic and walking purposefully over to the computer. “Hannah will you join
me?” he asks, putting on loud pulsating dance music and beginning to shuffle
his feet, arms windmilling in some kind of ridiculous dance. After a few
moments of this he kicks out each leg in turn and finally stops in front of
Hannah. Hannah laughs shaking her head no. “Come come, woman, I must have you
dance with me,” he says, kick dancing in front of the couch, grabbing her hand.
Hannah laughs harder as he pulls her up and forces her arms to windmill. Seth
gets up too and joins in on the dancing, striking out on his own into some kind
of crazy traditional German dancing.
“Is Andy always like this?” I ask Jared.
“Yes, he’s always crazy. It’s his way. I’ve grown used to it
over the years,” he says seriously and then continues on with, “Ready to join? It’s
necessary to join the crazy people or else we’ll look like outsiders and be
shunned.”
“Whaaaat! I don’t want to be an outcast of this society,” I
reply in utter seriousness. We join the others, dancing around the room and now
everyone joins in, doing the stupidest dances we can think of. And it doesn’t
matter that we look dumb. The dumber the better, in fact, topping each other
with the most ridiculous moves we can think of. High, drunk, stupid and yet
having the best time. I’m out of breath, laughing at Andy as he does a crazy
version of the “Stayin Alive” dance.
I’m fairly certain that this would look entirely insane to
anyone outside our drugged confines. But no one here seems to care. Andy is
quite drunk now and starting to get even more comical. I’m slowly learning that
he’s the funniest guy ever when he’s tanked. Hannah and I are doing the
Macarena when he dances up to us, pretending to move his hips like we are, his
expression trying to be sexy, his lips pursed.
“Stop it!” says Hannah with a laugh as Andy grabs her waist,
pulling her in close, grinding his hips on her as I laugh and Samantha joins
me. He pulls back for a moment and does a little dance, half robot and half
something else, his feet moving everywhere at once, his arms windmilling around
wildly. Finally he stops and just stands there, grinning at us.
“Nailed it,” he says, nodding his head, like he’s
accomplished some fantastic feat of dancing precision. “Totally fuckin…nailed
the triple axel.”
“Be our clown Andy!” I say, trying to fight the smile that
is threatening to take over my face. “Dance, fool, make us laugh!” Andy fake
frowns, the corners of his mouth turned down, totally overstated.
“I’m not your clown, how dare you!” he says doing a jig,
kicking his legs out, making a complete fool of himself. “Oh, Hannah,” he says,
coming up close, grinding himself on her with an outrageous raunchy look, “I’ve
got some good news and some bad news, which do you want first?”
“The bad news, you sexy beast,” says Hannah with a grin,
running her hands up and down his sides, pretending to be taken in by his sexy
dancing.
“The bad news is that I’m a hyperactive son of a bitch who
is going to get trashed tonight and you, my sweet, are my guest here. Can you
handle it? Can you?!”
Hannah laughs, “Gonna get trashed? This isn’t trashed?”
Andy looks at her in complete seriousness, his eyes focused
on her face. “Courage, I tell you! Courage!!!” he suddenly states loudly,
pumping his fist in the air.
“Now the good news, tell me you baa-stard!” she says,
dancing with him now, both of them silly.
“The good news is coming at you in 3 parts,” he says, his
hips continuing to move to the pumping music, holding up three fingers, “Number
one is brought to you by the letter J. I brought Jello shots and then later we
can go out somewhere else on campus!” Then his voice changes to a whisper and
he looks at Jared next to me and says, “Don’t tell Jared, he’s an asshole.” Jared,
hearing this, glares at him and he sobers and then continues on with a very
straight face. “Number two is brought to you by the letter A cause we gonna
play some Asshole! And number three is R for getting recrunkulated bitches! Let’s
get hiiiiggghhhhhh!! Or shall I say…let’s get even MORE high!!!” We laugh as
Andy makes ridiculous faces, drawing out his words in a high pitched funny voice.
“Wait a minute, you brought recrunkulator?! What the hell,
jerk,” says Jared with fake anger.
“Yes, I did Sir. I couldn’t leave him at home, he’d get so
lonely and jealous of all my other smoking devices. We cannot have that because
then he might refuse to perform up to par. Oh and the best part, is what I
brought for the Asshole to wear. Oh man, it’s gonna be so wicked sweeeeettt!!”
“You rowdy Mo’Fo’, where’d you put my cards the last time
you played Asshole,” says Jared rolling his eyes at Andy’s antics. Andy jets
off to the other room and we can hear him rummaging around in different
drawers, slamming cabinets, things spilling on the floor and Jared rolls his
eyes again and finally Andy’s back.
“Beer soaked cards! Jello shots! Recrunkulatorrrrr the glass
bong!” he sings loudly, displaying a nice tray of Jello shots in small white
cups, a deck of warped beer soaked and then dried cards and finally a large
glass bong. “Ok and one final thing….the costume for the asshole, to make him
feel at home,” he says with an evil little smile, plunking down the bong, cards
and tray of Jello shots on Jared’s messy coffee table. He grabs a bag full of
something from behind Jared’s couch and leaves the room, telling us he’ll be
right back, in full asshole regalia.