Post by carson lee hurst. on Dec 8, 2009 20:22:40 GMT -5
We are all on drugs, yeah!!
Never getting enough-----------
Give me some of that stuff
Never getting enough-----------
Give me some of that stuff
It was 12:00 PM or so the red digits on the alarm clock thought. At some point, a power surge had decided to buzz through and the alarm clock would never really be properly set. It would forever flash '12:00 PM' over and over until someone fixed it, which they probably never would. In reality it was 10:37 PM, but '12:00' was flashing in the dark, unlit room. Carson's eyes fidgeted, opening and shutting, staring at the damn clock.
It was so fucking bright.
She turned. She tossed. She put the covers over her head. She pushed them onto the floor. In the end she sat upright, stretched for a moment, and put her feet on the cold bare floor. It was a bit chilly (or, a lot chilly), but she found herself sweating--sweating whiskey out of her pores, or at least something that smelled like whiskey. Carson shuttered and fumbled in the dark, looking for the lightswitch.
'I would do just fucking fine if I could find it..' she thought angrily, feeling the wall helplessly. She bumped into her nightstand and got more agitated than before and cursed under her breathe perfusely. Finally her hand grasped a switch which she turned upwards. She rushed quickly to the nightstand and opened the top drawer, successfully finding a small bog filled with pot--and, next to that, a bible. She took out the bible first, sitting on the floor with it.
Carson didn't have to think twice. She opened it to page 215 and tore it out quickly, with the precision of a pro. It had barely any tears in it. She placed the bible onto the floor, grabbed the baggie, and headed for the door, then shook her head and turned around. Quickly, she grabbed a sweater that had been thrown on the floor. It was really quite cold and all she had on was a little black and white nightie. She put the paper and baggie down to toss the beige too-big thing over head, than picked up her other instruments and headed for the door, opening the knob and closing it quietly.
Although she had trouble in her own room finding the light switch that was five feet away, she ran around the dark house like a pro, slipping into hallways and moving quietly on her feet. She turned up a flight of stairs and worked her way silently to the roof. When she reached the top of the mansion she was greated by a large door which she opened up, and then the darkness was instantly coated with moonlight. A gust of wind blew her messy dark hair around her face, and her feet moved again, though more carefully.
She sat down in the middle of the roof, crossing her legs underneath her. Gently she placed the baggie into her lap and held the paper tightly, and than she slowly began rolling a joint. It took her under three minutes. She carelessly tossed the baggie and felt around to her right for the packet of matches she'd left up here before. She found it, lit one, and lit it on fire, inhaling deeply as her blue eyes scanned the moon. It was full, big and bright, and mystified her for the time being, until the drugs wore off again.
I can easily manage here,she thought, puffing a wad of smoke out of her lips. After all, wasn't this weed homegrown? Hell yeah it was, straight from the garden here, and she had made it herself.
