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Illusional Time


D Jones

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Chapter - One

 

The feeling of the little men in my head, drilling inside out of it wasn't what I wanted. It was a horrible combination with mopping floors, talking to people and counting money. I liked my job though, I was a clerk at a 24/7 store and it paid very well. It was in the middle of a street called Willsure Road, and this place was no weekend excursion type of place. I could look out the front windows and see a drug deal in the damn parking lot, but I didn't bother, I was usually out there too, considering I live right across the street. Willsure Road drifted off, but in the middle of the road a road splits down it, that road was called RiverWood Lane, and it stretched out about 3-4 miles. I lived half way down in apartments, the who RiverWood Lane were just apartments, all 3 or 4 miles of it. I heard snapping near my head.

 

"Snap out of it junior, you got work to do!" said the old store manager.

"I got you man, please don't be making noises like that near my ear, I have a killer headache." I replied back to prick.

 

My store manager, Michael, was a old ass man. He was one of those old men you couldn't stand, he walks in and smells like old horse ass and stinks up the whole place. I want to tell him, but it just don't work. I continued to mop up the floor as he demanded, but I wasn't trippin' over it, I got off in 15 minutes. I can't wait, a lot of bud is waitin' for me at the apartment. I've been smoking since I was 15, I am 21 now. Six years of smoke in my lung and I can still run from the police when I need to, and I can also play a pick-up game of basketball, I perfer playing when I am blazed, I jump higher. After mopping up I put down the 'Caution! Wet" sign and go to the back of the store. I clock out, as I walk out I grab a few english and blueberry muffins, I stuff them in my pocket quickly. Nobody was in the store except Michael and he never notices, he is too busy stocking up the toliet paper.

 

"Later, have a good evening." I said to Michael.

"Likewise young fellow, don't get in trouble." He sneered.

 

I walked out the front doors and felt the warm breeze of air hit my face, it was beautiful. It was about 7 'clock and I had the whole night to myself. I began my walk to the apartment, I pulled out my pack of Newports and grabbed a cigarette, I grabbed my lighter and lit my cigarette. Hitting the nicotine-evil monster made me felt relaxed and calm, I felt as if I took a chill pill. But the strong cigarette didn't help my headache, it felt like there was a whole jazz band in my head, everything was beating on the same note. I couldn't look up to the sky as it would make my head worst, I had a killer migrain, I just want to go home and smoke some kill. The long walk was some what relaxing and miserable, if it wasn't for the migrain the walk would've been nice, no one talked to me today, as every day I socialize with somebody about something, wheather it was about there day, there smoking session, how they got in trouble or how there day went at school. As I was thinking about random sh*t, I appeared infront of my apartment, not remembering half of the damn walk.

 

"Damn.. I smoke too much." telling myself.

 

 

 

Chapter Two will be very soon.

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A little short, but I like it.

 

Also... wrong section, ganja boy! /obvious.

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Yeah, whoops. blush.gif

 

I really didn't notice how short it was, I just wanted that as a introduction basically.

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Chapter - Two

 

I walked inside of my apartment. My apartment was small, it was a two bedroom and one bathroom. I had to keep it clean, as I was a clean person, but the bud laying all over the coffee table made me look like a drug dealer. I took the muffins out of my pocket and put them on the coffee table in the leaving room. I flew back into the couch and grabbed a stick from off of the arm of the couch.

 

"Hmmm, blueberry flavor." I told myself.

 

I unwrapped the stick and broke it down. I grabbed a some bud off of the table and broke it down, it was a long process but the end result was great for me. After the bud was broken down I began to place it into the stick nicely, and started licking the stick downwards. I loved rolling, ever since I knew how, it was a major accomplishment to me seeing how I don't need no one to roll for me now, I could smoke in peace. I grabbed my lighter and began lighting up the blunt. I took a hit and felt relieved, as if god himself lifted me off my couch and placed me onto a cloud. I got up and began cleaning what trash I had in my kitchen, which was only a few dirty dishes. The crackling noise didn't help my, now, minor headache but the weed made my headache less aching. A loud knock was heard at my door. I dried my hands off and slowly walked to the door, peeping out the peep hole.

 

"Open the door you bitch ass nigga! I can smell that ganja!" yelled Steve.

 

Steve, a white ass man who lived in the ghetto too long, was my best friend. We have considered each other brothers for the longest time, we are different, as he is more of a rowdy type and I am a calm and quiet type. He lived right across the hall from me, so it wasn't hard to keep in touch. I opened the door and looked at him with the blunt in my mouth. Steve looked at me dazed.

 

"You gonna let me hit that?" He questioned.

"Maybe, you gonna match up a blunt, I know you got one." I replied back

 

I motioned him to come in.

 

"Sure, I guess, it gotta be like that" He snouted.

"Stop being a wenier baby and just roll up a blunt, you know I will smoke with you more." I told him joking.

 

He sat down and pulled out a Blunt Wrap, it was a cottonmouth flavor. They tasted like cotton candy actually. I walked back to my room and went to my stereo. I turned up the song as loud as I can hear it in the living room, the song blasted was by one of my home boys Greg. He is trying to get up in the world by rappin', and he isn't that bad.

 

"...I love weed! Smoke that weed! Smoke that weed!"

 

Greg was one of those R&B/Rapper type of artist. He sang but rap at the same time. Luckily he is my friend, if not I would not have this in my stereo. I walked back to the living room and Steve had the bud already in the blunt wrap. I felt high, I only hit my blunt 4 or 5 times and I feel great.

 

"Here you go, some good sh*t right here" I told Steve.

"I am sure it is." He said not really paying attention.

 

He took the blunt and began hitting it. He was also rolling up the blunt as well. I sat down in my recliner I had and just enjoyed being high and listening to music. I beated me head along with the music, as I no longer had a headache, as if mary jane healed me. Steve was done rolling the blunt and handed me my blunt back. I hit the blunt hard and I couldn't resist to start coughing up my lungs.

 

"Ah, can't hang with the big boys?" smiled Steve.

"Yeah, if you ain't chokin' you ain't smokin." I replied.

 

Steve lit up his blunt and a puff of smoke instantly weaved in the air. The smell of marijuana filled my house and my living room was filled with smoke. I got up and went to my room to turn off my stereo.

 

"Enough of that" I told myself.

 

I walked back out of my room and went to the living room.

 

"Wanna watch some TV?" I asked Steve.

"I don't care, I am smokin', just no sports sh*t!" he said.

"sh*t, if a good game is on, you better deal with it" I told him.

 

We both puffed on our blunts.

 

"Bitch, let me hit yours, this ain't no f*cking free smoke fest" I told Steve.

"Bitch, don't call me bitch!" He said as we switched the blunts.

 

I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. I instantly noticed something different every TV show had the same picture, and everything. I looked at Steve and he was staring at the TV too.

 

"....errorist attack in New York, Boston, Washington DC, Floridia, Tennessee on the east coast. Texas has been struck down south. California, Arizona, Nevada and Oregon have been struck in the west. Alaska has been hit and so has Hawaii. All states have been bombarded with bombs, unexpected and has killed many. No one knows how the president is doing at the moment. We don't kn...."

 

The electric cut off instantly. The quiet was scary, something unpleasent. It was the first time that I actually heard this much quietness and felt scared. I looked at Steve and he was still hitting the blunt.

 

"What the f*ck?" I said.

"I don't even know, bro" he replied.

 

In the distant a sound of bombs are going. Many of them, constant bombing, and it sounded like it was getting closer. My heart began racing as I was confused and stunned to what to do. The sounds of explosions get closer and the rumbling gets bigger, the shaking of my apartment feels as if a earthquake is going off.

 

"What the f*ck?" I said again.

 

 

sorry for double post

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