If Marc Emery is the Prince of Pot, I'm the King! (upinsmoke) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-04-03 19:20:00 |
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Current music: | triad - jefferson airplane |
you both stand there, your long hair flowing/your eyes alive, your mind still growing
Who: Marijuana, Classic Rock, Hippie Subculture (<-posting order, y/n?), counter NPCs at the beginning.
What: Working out the 4/20 set list!
Where: The Highway, upstairs apartment.
When: Saturday afternoon.
Warnings: Language, alcohol, drug use.
Marijuana was more prone to baking as a female. Well, she baked special brownies as a male, but being even more creative with the recipe was a trait that belonged solely to Mary Jane. And when she'd practically inhaled twelve Cadbury Creme Eggs and decided that one more would make her explode if she didn't give her stomach a rest, she had taken to playing around with the leftovers. The result was Creme Egg brownies, made, of course, with weed butter with a higher THC percentage than usual. Ignoring the flour stain on the front of her Floyd babydoll and the batter stain on her ripped jeans, she set down a tray, fresh from the oven, on the coffee table and set about moving the minifridge from the bedroom into the living room so they didn't have to get up to refresh their beer.
Humming The Beatles' 'Revolution' under her breath, Marijuana painstakingly found enough outlets for the amps and dragged both her guitar stands in next to the fridge. There would be jamming, of course, although she hoped they wouldn't disturb Heroin, who was downstairs working in the backroom studio. If Marijuana clued in that her husband was working rather loudly to perhaps remind her that she was married and couldn't indulge in the rather wicked and unfaithful thoughts she had briefly entertained about her two friends and her new female form, well, she wasn't letting on. No, she kept herself busy making sure there were enough joints rolled for all of them - and a few sprinkled with heroin that were slipped into her back pocket - and once there was a small pile of marijuana cigarettes developed on the coffee table, she lounged back on the couch, found a channel playing Futurama reruns, and simply waited for her friends to arrive.
She had been far too antisocial lately, almost feeling suffocated by routine, boredom, lack of new stimuli, but there was a party to plan, a big party, and aside from that obligation, seeing her friends would be like a breath of fresh air inside an otherwise stale environment.
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"You need a two in that space, it's the only way it's going to work."
Cam blinked down at the page of the advanced sudoku book then looked incredulously up at the young god who had finished all his homework and had decided to fill a lazy Saturday afternoon by volunteering to take a counter shift along with Cam. Tommy flushed a bit, shrugged, and glanced self-consciously down at the law textbook in front of him. Cam frowned as he took Tommy's advice and, within thirty seconds, the puzzle was completed.
"Nice call, man." The mortal shoved the puzzle book aside and looked over Tommy's shoulder as he read. "Tort law? Not really your thing, is it?"
Tommy shrugged again. "Nah, but I'll need to know it for my final." Cam was distracted as the phone rang - The Highway, Cam speaking, how can I help you? - and Tommy took the opportunity to glance behind him at the two doors, the door to the back room studio firmly closed and the door up to Marijuana and Heroin's apartment wide open. They had instructions to let the guests up into the apartment but Tommy was already considering abandoning the counter and sneaking into the studio to watch his Vater Heroin work.
But the sound of the front door opening distracted him and, as Cam finished up with the customer and made a note on his new iPad. Tommy had ample time to contemplate the two figures; both attractive in the way of his father's - mother's, now - old people, both oozing something that made Tommy shift in his seat slightly. Cam, however, merely smiled lightly at Marijuana's two best friends. "He's-" Tommy broke in with a pointed correction. "She's." Cam smiled ruefully. "She's upstairs waiting for you guys, go on up."
Upstairs, Marijuana grinned and rose to greet her friends once they'd climbed the stairs to the apartment.