Just a little story......

PRELUDE

"When's the last time you smoked this?"
"About an hour ago, I guess"
"Are you high now??"
"I don't know."
"Let me check your eyes."
"For God's sake, do you have to do that?"
"Yes, I do. I have do a lot of things from now on. And they're bloodshot, of course. How long have you been doing this?"
(silence)
"Come on, you're already on my S-list - spit it out."
(silence)
"You tell me right now or....you just better tell me."
"Jesus Christ, about a year, alright?!"
"Watch your mouth! A year......you're going to rehab. Tomorrow morning I'm checking you in."
"Oh my god........you're not serious, are you? Mom, I'll never smoke again....you can trust me."
"No, obviously I can't."
"Please.......all I'm asking for is a chance."
"I've given you far too many chances. Oh, and by the way, I know you got this from Paulie, so he's in the pit too. Just go to bed. Get out of my sight."

John's mother got up and walked away. He sat there with a blank expression on his face. He didn't know how to feel. He couldn't believe she was sending him to rehab. He was so ashamed. What would he say to Paulie?

"Hey Paulie, guess what? I was a dumbass and I left the bowl on the kitchen table."

No, that wouldn't go over too well, he thought. He knew when he started smoking that he'd get caught. He knew he wasn't good at keeping things under wraps, but he was so worried that Paulie would leave him that he had to take a hit. And it all went downhill from there. His grades, his life, his relationships, everything. He was rarely sober, and his mother always suspected it but she never knew for certain until today. He and Paulie had a strong bond; they had been friends since 2nd grade, but after they started getting stoned together, they were like blood brothers. They did everything together, even though "everything" was really only smoking a joint and watching TV in John's attic. And weed came before everything and everyone. His girlfriend of three years, Jessica, left him when she found out he had screwed one of her friends at a party while he was high. When they split he became depressed and it just got worse. He never called his father anymore. Any of his friends who didn't smoke just weren't worth his time. And as he sat and contemplated all this, he realized how much he had f***ed up. "Yeah, I f***ed up bigtime," he muttered. He started to cry. He stood up and threw the bowl at the cabinet. He screamed and started to blubber, his hands cupped over his face. Eventually, when he stopped, he heard the faint sound of his mother crying in her room. He crept upstairs and stood at her doorway. She turned around from her vanity and stared at him. She hesitated, then rose and walked to her door and embraced John. They cried on each other's shoulders for what seemed like forever. When John finally found the words, they came pouring out. "Mom I love you I swear I'll never do this again I can't believe I went behind your back like that for so long I love you so much I'm so sorry can you forgive me please don't tell Paulie I'll do anything to make up for it please Mom forgive me I'm sorry."

And of course, she crumbled inside and forgave him. Saying those things to him in the kitchen was the hardest thing she'd ever done. It was a trauma unto its own. She had thought she was doing the right thing, but who was to say she shouldn't give him a shot? A chance to prove himself? Of course, all logic went against this, but her kid was different. There was something about him that always let her know whether he was being earnest or not - or at least it used to. As a child, John always told the truth and she could always trust him. But she wasn't stupid, she knew that when he matured he would lie and cheat and try to deceive her and grow to hate her for a few choice years. And here he was, as much in that stage as he ever was, caught red handed with "pot paraphenelia" as her old college friends so geniusly called it. Still, why not try to go back to the way things used to be? I could actually make an effort to mold him as a person, and it's about time I tried, she thought. She knew that she wasn't the best mother in the world, but she tried, god, she tried. Lately though...she hadn't been quite up to snuff. Her kids had changed and so had she. They'd all grown older and less attached by the minute, but she wanted to go back to the old days. And if she was going to put in the effort, she'd make John do the same, rehab or not.

Before she could put all these thoughts into some sort of condensed lecture, John let go of her and said "Goodnight, Mom. I love you." She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and said "I love you too, Johnny." They both went to bed and fell fast asleep. Before John shut his eyes, however, it occurred to him that either his mom hadn't considered that he had more drugs, or she trusted him enough to get rid of them. At first he thought he should smoke them before she finds them tomorrow, but then a pang of shame went down his spine and he cried himself to sleep.

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John woke up at 5:30 AM, the same time he woke up every morning. He swore he had an insomnia problem. Normally he would have taken a serious hit while he watched the sunrise through his window. It always tripped him out. Just the smooth glaze of that orange globe piercing the sky and exposing the morning dew, it boggled his mind. Today, however, he'd have to do without it. There'd be a lot of mornings like this coming. All he could think was 'I need a smoke, I need a smoke, I need a smoke.' "God, I'm such an addict," he said out loud. Then he laughed. 'What am I laughing about?' he thought. 'What's so f***in funny?' He laughed again at the absurdity of his own thoughts. "Great, just great."

He was still worried about his mother. She seemed pretty unstable last night. Of course she had plenty of reasons to be, but he was still worried about her. As he opened his door he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. Withdrawal, he thought. He opened his mom's door ever so slightly. She was sleeping in her clothes, with no blankets or anything. God, she must have been exhausted. He recalled her words. He couldn't remember everything that happened because he was high during much of the ordeal. He knew that he was sober when he walked up the stairs to his mother after she left. Her words must have had some sobering effect on him. He never felt anything that deeply when he was high. That was an emotional rollercoaster, he thought. Yup, one big f***in rollercoaster. He realized he was staring into space, so he closed the door and walked down the stairs into the living room. Tired from all this early morning thought, he lied down on the couch and fell back asleep.

His mom woke up about an hour later. It was light out now. She was usually an earlybird, and hell, 6:30 isn't late by most standards, but just because of her work hours she was used to getting up at 4, even on the weekends. Oh well, she thought. As she went down the hall to Johnny's room, she noticed she still had her clothes on. She had to be extremely exhausted to just sprawl out on her bed like that, without changing into a decent nightrobe. And indeed, she was. In fact, she still felt tired out, even after all that extra sleep. She walked in his room, expecting to see him on his computer talking to Paulie (which reminded her that she had to call his parents today,) but he was nowhere to be found. She called his name, figuring he was elsewhere in the house, probably the kitchen. "Johnny!" No answer. "Johnny!" No answer. "JOHNNY!" Yet again, no answer. Her heart jumped in her throat. John wasn't the type to run away. He'd have nowhere to go, she thought. Yet her maternal instincts said otherwise. She couldn't think about it any longer. No matter how much of an irrational thought it was, she had to be sure that he was still under her wing. She flew down the stairs and failed to notice John lying down under the afghan on the couch, the pillow over his head. Immediately she took a right turn into the kitchen, looking for some sort of confirmation; a letter, something, anything. And of course she found nothing. Frantic, she stumbled to the front door and forced it open. She screamed, "Johnny!" "Johnny!" "JOHNNY!" There was a sickly tone to her scream, as if there were knives in her throat. She was terrified that her son was somewhere, in harm's way without her there to protect and comfort him.

She rushed to the front of the house and waved her arms in the air fanatically. Yet another series of screams shoved their way through her lungs. She was all used up. Where was her son? Was he alive? Her heart pounding, she ran back through the driveway to the back door to call the police. Unfortunately, she only got to the stairs before her heart died and she fell hard to the asphalt.

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Lime and limpid green
A second scene
The fight between the blue you once knew
Floating down
The sound resounds around
The icy waters underground

Uh, do you work for D.A.R.E.?

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stchrissie is not me.

is this a talking head in disguise? leave the weed alone. fer old mothers sake.

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"Exterminate all rational thought...that is the conclusion I have come to."
- William S. Burroughs
'NAKED LUNCH'

He's only 14, he probably just hasn't dicovered how good it truly is.

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stchrissie is not me.

Maybe I should have posted more of the story, cause it does seem a bit melodramatic just for weed.

Real constructive answers, just great. "Do you work for D.A.R.E?" No, but do you work for the Sperm Bank? :smile: Come on, I asked for reviews, not BS.

By the way, I have in fact discovered how good it is. Many times.

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Lime and limpid green
A second scene
The fight between the blue you once knew
Floating down
The sound resounds around
The icy waters underground

No, I don't work for the sperm bank, I just freelance. Making deposits twice a day since 1994. Anyway, there is plenty I could say, but seeing as how your only 14, I won't be so harsh. No character development. You (hate to repeat a tired cliche but this time it is so true) "tell" and don't "show". Very melodramatic, too melodramatic for weed. Sorry about the DARE comment, but I thought you could take a joke, I was wrong.

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stchrissie is not me.

It sounds autobiographical if you ask me. I can tell because it is too descriptive when talking about the drug usage.

So is it?

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Sharp-distance

Ok...I just read the rest of the story and I like it a lot!

But what the hell is up with the ending?!?!
It's very possible, but very unrealistic. Afterall, female heart attacks are at a higher percentage than male heart attacks, but i still think your ending is a bit unrealistic.

NNJ, I agree with your comment about the characters not fully developed or whatever you said....But remember that it's only a short story, therefore it's not neccessary to explain that stuff in the story.

It that a critisismal review?

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Sharp-distance

Actually the ending didn't have to be realistic, I think that it was supposed to be surprise, and maybe a little black, it could've been better, but I enjoyed the ending. The part I hgad trouble with was all the feelings and crap he put in there about drugs. He could have shown us more about how it affected the character rather than talking about how the character felt, he could have used flashbacks. Anyway, pretty good for a 14 yr old.

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stchrissie is not me.

I agree, pretty damn good for his age.

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Sharp-distance

Don't do it, drop all aspirations and live in a van down the river like me. The machine will chew you up and spit you out, they will rape your ideas, use you and then when they don't need you anymore they will throw you away like a used condom if you use them

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The madcap laughed at the man on the border
hey ho,huff the Talbot the winds they blew and the leaves did wag they'll never put me in their bag

~Roger "Syd" Barret

Non Waters Fan #000001.9

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Dizzy in the head And I'm feelin' blue
The things you said, Well maybe they're true Gettin' funny dreams
Again and again I know what it means, but Can't explain I think it's love Try to say it to you, When I feel blue, But, I can't explain.
-The Who