InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "paisleywood"

Bob. (silent_bob) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-05-15 17:09:00

Entry tags:

!dropped, !incomplete, cheryl mason, day 07, jay, location: gas station, sid jenkins, silent bob

Day 7: Who Wants Weed? PM
Who: Bob and OTA
What: Trying to get to the pot
Where: The Not Quick Stop
When; Late Afternoon day 7
Rating: Let's go R just to be safe for language and drug use?

Bob had diligently responded to the notes from people about the pot in the Not Quick Stop. If somebody was brave enough to come fuck with the cooler, well come fuck with the cooler. At the moment, he'd situated himself at the main counter, inventorying his smokes and taking count of what was there. There was all kinds of weird shit - shit he wouldn't smoke even if the cigs were nasty. Who the fuck smokes cloves that isn't 14?

Staring from the front of the store like the fucking cooler was his arch nemesis, Bob was certain that he had no choice but to fucking get into that thing. Sure, he couldn't deal like back home, but to have a stash in his pocket and a fucking job to fucking do would be fucking amazing.

Get me a taste of Jersey with a fucking dime bag in my pocket - it's all Bob wanted.

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emo_underdog
2009-05-15 06:30 pm UTC (link)

After getting Jenny back to the theater, Sid hadn't planned on going out. Ever again. Well, at least not again until the snow melted. But, then he'd gotten into his journal and saw that someone had said there was weed, which he remembered as the American word for spliff, and Sid couldn't get the fuck out of the theater again any faster.

It took more time to get to the gas station than he'd have expected, but when he got there, he muscled the door open and stepped inside, stomping the snow out of his shoes and brushing it off his coat and hat.

There was a man in a trench coat standing behind the counter looking as though he fucking worked there. Sid caught his eye and tipped his chin up before turning and pulling the door closed behind him. "Where's the spliff, mate? Hope you weren't kidding, because it's bloody cold out there, yeah?" he said, looking back at the man behind the counter with raised eyebrows.

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silent_bob
2009-05-15 07:03 pm UTC (link)

Bob watched as some kid walked in. He wasn't quite sure who he was, but Bob figured it was just somebody else the fucking place pulled the fuck in. He seemed fucking young and shit. And British. What the fuck was up with that? Why the fuck would whoever grab some fucking British fucking kid? Fuck, Cheryl would totally fucking forget about him now - chicks dig accents and shit - even if they're faggy accents.

Then Bob's mind registered what the kid had asked. Spliff? What the fuck was that? Bob's lip curled and head tilted in a look of fucking perplexity. Though - letting his mind work a moment, the only thing anybody would fucking say somebody was joking about would be the fucking chronic hanging out in the back fucking cooler.

Stepping out from behind the counter he waved for the kid to follow. Down the aisle Bob stopped, standing toe to toe with his arch nemesis - the fucking cooler of fucking pot-traps and shit.

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_snoogans_
2009-05-15 07:27 pm UTC (link)

Jay walked out of the back where he'd gone to the john to find Silent Bob and some dorky looking kid staring at the goddamn stupid fucking cooler like it was going to move at any moment.

"Well, what the fuck are you two doing? It ain't a magic canvas that if you stare at it long enough shows you a sailboat!"

Stupid fucks. Though even he didn't want to mess with it anymore. It did look badass, Silent Bob was right.

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