Photo Challenge — Strange Brew

115A82B3-621A-4569-9A24-B4DB9DDB936C“Jesus, Diane, what the hell are you doing?” Elizabeth screamed when she and her boyfriend, Bill, walked into the apartment she and Diane shared. Diane was sitting at the dining room table. She was naked. Her head and the table, were covered with pea pods, along with a glass kettle of tea and a tea cup.

“Did you ever notice how fascinating pea pods are?” Diane said, without turning to look at Elizabeth. “They’re amazing, and when you open them up, all these little peas, like ball bearings, pop out and roll around on the table and drop to the floor.”

“Diane, why are you naked?” Elizabeth asked.

Diane turned her head and looked at Elizabeth and saw Bill standing next to her. “Bill,” Diane said, “You better not be looking at me, you perv.” And then she started laughing, returned her gaze to Elizabeth and said, “I was hot and sweaty so I stripped.”

“What are you drinking?” Elizabeth asked.

“I wanted some tea and found a bunch of tea bags in the very back of the cabinet so I brewed up a pot of it,” Diane said, “and this is the best tea I’ve ever had.”

Elizabeth went over to the trash basket under the sink and looked inside. She looked at Bill and said, “Four tea bags.”

“Oh my God,” Bill whispered. “She’s got to be stoned out of her mind. I’ll go get a towel.”

Bill returned from the bathroom with a large towel and handed it to Elizabeth, who draped it over Diane. “Sweetie,” Elizabeth said, “you’re high as a kite. The tea you used was something Bill and I picked up at the pot dispensary on Saturday. One bag is plenty potent for four people and you used four on your own. Come on, stand up, and let me get you into your bed.”

Diane stood up while Elizabeth wrapped her in the bath towel. Diane looked at Elizabeth and, with tears in her eyes, said, “Lizzy, you’re the best roommate in the whole world and I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”

Elizabeth put her arm around Diane and started leading her toward Diane’s bedroom. But Diane abruptly stopped and started walking toward the kitchen, the towel Elizabeth had wrapped her in falling to the ground. “Diane, what are you doing?”

“I have the munchies and I saw some leftover key lime pie in the fridge,” Diane said. “Hey, perv,” she called out to Bill. “Wanna cut me off a piece of that pie?” she asked. “But keep your perv eyes closed. I’m naked as the day I was born.”

Bill, smiling, looked back at Elizabeth, shrugged his shoulders in gesture of helplessness, and said to Diane, “Sure, let’s all share some of that key lime pie.” Then he looked at Elizabeth and said, “Hey Lizzy, do you want some tea?”


Written for this week’s Photo Challenge from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, and for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (glass). Photo credit: Daniel Fehr.

Friday Fictioneers —Desert Viewing

f0d24ddd-bbc8-4c0b-81cf-e3fcd7162526“I’m really bummed,” Traci said.

“Why’s that?” Jason asked.

“Tonight’s the Super Blood Wolf Moon eclipse,” Traci explained, “but it’s cloudy and rainy, so we won’t be able to see it.”

“We can call Nick,” Jason suggested. “He has this big, white teepee that he camps in, and maybe we can persuade him to drive us out to the desert in his van. We can cook dinner over an open fire, set up three folding chairs, get stoned, and witness the eclipse. Then we can all spend the night in his teepee.”

“Sounds like a plan. Call him,” Traci said.

(100 words)


Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Renee Heath.

Friday Fictioneers — Gummies

img_1977The three of them walked slowly toward the house at the end of the pier. Trying hard not to slur his words, Alan said, “We’re almost there, Andrea.”

“I’m not as stoned as I think I am,” she responded.

Harry burst out laughing. “You mean you’re not as stoned as we think you are.”

“That’s what I said,” Andrea pointed out.

“No,” Alan replied. “You said you’re not as stoned as you think you are.”

“Same difference.” Andrea smiled and said, “I told you my grandson’s pot-infused gummies would sneak up on you. Let’s all go skinny dipping, shall we?”

(100 words)


Written for Rachel Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Picture credit: Ted Strutz.

FFfAW — Stoned Embers

Embers“Pass me that doobie, dude,” Calvin said to his friend Dwight.

Dwight took a big hit from the joint and handed it to Calvin. After letting out his breath, he looked over at Calvin and said, “Whoa, this is some good shit, man.”

The two of them sat on a bench in front of the fire pit in Dwight’s backyard. Calvin took a toke.

Both sat silently for a while. Dwight finally broke the silence. “Mesmerizing,” he said.

“It’s the universe and it’s speaking to me,” said Calvin, staring at the glowing, reddish embers at the bottom of the fire pit.

“It’s like you’re standing on top of a mountain looking down at a city in flames,” Dwight said.

“It’s like you’re God, looking at the world you just created,” marveled Calvin.

“More like Godzilla after destroying Tokyo,” Dwight said.

“Don’t mess with Godzilla, dude,” Calvin said. He took another hit off the joint before handing it back to Dwight, who did the same.

The two of them sat silently staring into the fire pit.

(175 words)


Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Image credit: Enisa.

 

Memory of a Goldfish

Image result for memory of a GoldfishNo, this post isn’t an ode to a dearly departed goldfish. It’s actually about what happens to my brain when I’m stoned.

Back in my youth, I used to smoke pot with some regularity. But after I got married and we had kids, I stopped. Why? Because it made me stupid. Smoking pot, that is, not having kids.

As a husband and a father with young children, I knew that my wife and kids depended upon me to have a presence of mind in case something serious needed my attention. Being stoned, as enjoyable as it was, was not something I’d want to be if I needed to be clear thinking and clear eyed. So I stopped smoking grass.

Now I’m an old fart. I’m retired. My kids are grown up and are living their own lives. My only responsibilities are to walk my dog, clean my cat’s litter box, go grocery shopping with my wife periodically, and to eat, sleep, and blog.

The use of marijuana for recreational purposes in the state of California became legal last month. So, after many decades of not getting stoned, my wife and I went to the local pot store and bought some “edibles,” including cookies, mints, and gummies, all infused with marijuana.

We have eaten a few cookies or gummies over the past couple of weeks and we each enjoyed the resulting highs. However, I found that while I’m stoned, I have the memory of a goldfish — about three seconds.

I might, for example, be in the middle of a discussion about some very important topic and will suddenly forget whatever point I was attempting to drive home. That’s when I’ll ask, “What was I talking about,” and everyone in the room will crack up in hysterical laughter.

Memory of a goldfish.

Or I may get up off my ass, walk into the kitchen, open up the refrigerator, and stare at the contents, suddenly realizing that I have no idea why I got up up off my ass, walked into the kitchen, and opened up the refrigerator in the first place. Did I have something in mind? Did my wife ask me to get her something? No clue.

Memory of a goldfish.

Or when we’re watching a TV drama, particularly one with a lot of twists and turns in the storyline. I have trouble focusing on the plot and sometimes can’t remember what’s going on from one scene to the next.

Memory of a goldfish.

I’ve also noticed that time moves much more slowly when I’m stoned. Everything seems to take much longer than it normally takes. Like when I get up to go to the bathroom and my stream of pee just goes on and on and on. Well, it seems to, but it really doesn’t .

That last item has nothing to do with having a memory like a goldfish. But it is an accurate observation about being stoned.

And no, I’m not stoned while writing this post, in case you were wondering. That would cause me write something stupid.