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Sid Jenkins (emo_underdog) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-01 15:36:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 09, location: gas station, sid jenkins, silent bob

Day Nine - Mid-morning
Who: Sid Jenkins and Silent Bob
What: Free the Weed: Take Two
When: mid-morning
Where: the gas station
Rating: heh uh maybe PG-13 to R for language
Status: Complete

Sid...was out of fags. And food, but most importantly, fags. Yesterday had been a long day of hauling shit out from under the stage and staying the hell inside to avoid the possibility of meeting...himself. So, when he slept that night, he slept like the lazy log that he rightfully was. But, when he woke up the next morning, shrugging out of his jacket because it was actually kind of hot in the theatre today, he was dismayed to find that he'd smoked his last cigarette at some point the night before and hadn't realized that it was the last one. Thus, he hadn't replaced the pack.

With a sigh, Sid pushed up his sleeves against the heat and headed back up from the green room and right out the door. He was going to the bloody petrol station and he was going to stock up like Anders had. Much smarter to have more than one pack on his person. Maybe he'd take another lighter, too, actually. Might as well, while he was at it.

The sun was already shining brightly in the sky and the warmth was a really nice change from the last time he'd been outside a couple of days ago. The snow was nearly all melted, save a few small piles still left from the massive snowdrifts that had reached up to the second floor window. It was far smaller, now, but apparently it had been too large for the sun to take out yesterday. Sid had a feeling it'd be gone by the end of today, though. That was good.

Zoning out as he walked, listening idly to the crunch of gravel under his sneakers, Sid made it to the petrol station in almost no time. He hadn't realized he'd been walking so fast. He let himself in and looked around. "Oi, anyone home?" he called out, not necessarily liking the idea of just barging in on someone's personal space just for cigarettes but...shit, they were cigarettes. Anyone living in the petrol station must be used to being barged in on; it was where all the good stuff was. Including, Sid remembered as his eyes landed on the case and his brow furrowed with frustration, spliff.

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silent_bob
2009-06-04 09:49 pm UTC (link)

Bob nodded to Sid's suggestion that one more hit would be the final blow to the cooler. In fact he was nodding emphatically. Just throw the fucking can! he thought, becoming gleeful as he watched Sid line up his shot and fire.

The sound of glass falling to the fucking floor sounded even better than Morris Day and the Motherfucking Time. It was fucking epic. That sound meant fucking freedom and normalcy and all that fucking shit that he wanted so desperately.

Bob watched as Sid went up and started clawing at the shit. He wanted to do the same down thing, except he was just so fucking stunned. Bob looked around. Papers? There weren't any fucking papers. You know what? He was going to fucking hollow out a cigarette because he was just that fucking desperate. Fuck that. He was going to hollow out a cigar. Approaching the cooler Bob offered the Brit the options. Cigs or Cigar? he asked, holding up one in each hand. He knew what he was picking.

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emo_underdog
2009-06-04 10:27 pm UTC (link)

When Sid had taken what he felt was his fair share of spliff - four bricks; he could come back for more later if he needed to...this would last a while - he looked up at Bob. "Bollocks, there's gotta be papers somewhere, we'll run out of those right quick, but for now...the cigar, mate," he replied with a big grin on his face. Kid at Christmas, that was Sid.

Rather than take Bob's cigar, Sid headed back behind the counter, dropping his bricks of weed onto it when he got there, and took a package of Macanudos. "Cheers, mate!" he all but chirped as he pulled open the tin and got to work hollowing out one of the cigars in there. His hands made quick, automatic work of it and his eyes scanned the surroundings. There had to be rolling papers...there were cans of loose tobacco; why would they be there if there wasn't any papers to roll the stuff into?

Frowning when he couldn't find them and too damn excited to get down to it, Sid decided he'd look after he finished a joint. Joint? Maybe it was a different name when it was so bloody gigantic... He'd ask, except he was too distracted to care.

Lining the pot up on the open and now empty cigar paper, Sid made quick work of rolling it up, licking the edge of the paper and sliding his finger along the new seam to hold it in place. Then, he held it up to his lips, struck his lighter, and cocked his eyebrows at Bob as he took his first hit. "Oh, that's the stuff, mate. Good shit!" he said in a choked voice as he held in the breath until he couldn't anymore.

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