New Friends in Old Places
Grace
“No,” she says, “you’ve got to pull the carton almost all the way out of the water.”
Yuri’s helping me get rid of my remaining stash of buds and is attempting to instruct me on the proper use of a gravity bong. The process is pretty interesting, but I’m having a bit of trouble with the finer points.
“Here,” she says, “I’ll get it prepped again, but this time, you’re taking the hit.”
We’ve been at this a while.
Yuri’s apartment was a little…I guess the polite way to say it is that it’s cluttered. The not-so-polite way to say it is that that place is a fucking hellhole.
Needless to say, we’re back at my place.
It’s been a couple of days since I’ve seen Jace, but he called me yesterday to give me an update on what’s going on with him and the town skank...I forget her name.
He sounded a lot more confident than I’ve ever known him to be, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s whipped like a little bitch. I think it’s my duty as a kind, caring human being full of empathy and puppy farts to do what I can to extricate him from his royal blunder.
For now, though, Yuri’s got the bottomless milk jug full of smoke and she’s unscrewing the bowl.
“Put your mouth over it, but not before you exhale everything from your lungs,” she instructs. “You’re going to need every bit of space in there to take all of this.”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” I tell her.
Toward the end of my conversation with Jace, he was kind enough to remember that he’s my doctor and I still haven’t had that scan he seemed to believe was so important, so he’s got me scheduled for a few hours from now.
Let’s just say that my tolerance is starting to grow.
“Are you going to be good to drive me?” I ask.
“Qu
ick,” she scolds, “before the smoke gets out.”
I put my mouth over the opening at the top, and once I’ve got a good seal, Yuri starts pushing the jug down into the water, forcing what amounts to a metric fuck ton of smoke into me.
Somehow, I manage to get it all in, and I lift my head, holding my breath.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I can’t really answer right now.
“You don’t need to hold your breath,” she says. “Word has it that something like 95 percent of the THC gets absorbed into your lungs in the first few seconds. You can blow it out.”
I’m not sure where she’s getting her information, but she seems to be an old hand at all this, so I let the air out of my lungs with a surprisingly large, seemingly neverending plume of smoke.
“That’s the way to do it, girl!” she says, holding her hand up and just staring at me until I give her a high five.
“Holy shit,” I tell her. “I feel like I just breathed out a pine forest fire.”
“I know, right?” she says. “Now, load me up one more. I like to be good and baked before I get in to work.”
“Do you really think that’s wise?” I ask. “I mean, you’re working in a doctor’s office.”
“A reticulated giraffe could do my job,” she says. “Hell, it could do my job after smoking more than I do.”
“Yeah, but you’ve got to figure in body weight,” I explain, feeling very proud of myself for being able to contribute so wonderfully to Yuri’s hyperbole.