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you are deep in the midwest, in a small town of 63 people caring for your sick grandmother. typically you enjoy smoking marijuana and doing crimes. a coastal boy from the he tells you about everthing that's changed from his perspective since you were here last. which bars have closed. which have opened. where before there was only a dairy queen, there is now a taco johns. many of his friends have children; he sadly does not. he is however dating a single mother who lives just less than two hours away. he is glad not to have to drive too far to see her. he asks what you've been up to, and you tell him about the marijuana you've smoked and the crimes you've been involved with. he says he might know where to get some weed, and when you get to the big city instead of going to dairy queen he pulls into what appears to be a closed down auto glass repair shop. a wooden picket fence has been constructed around the back half of the structure and parking lot, and inside the gravel parking lot is transitioning into a grassless lawn and there is a small concrete porch around the side entrance. you park in front of the picket fence next to a 2003 ford explorer and approach the door and this is what happens you are in the waiting area of an auto shop. no, you are not. the painted white cinderblock walls concrete floor and drop ceiling contain a well-appointed living room and kitchen seperated by a half-wall. a middle-aged man sits on a many-seated L-shaped couch watching football on an immense television set with bad color. on one end of this couch is a playpen. on the half wall is a fake handwritten sign with "faith" "freedom" and "family" written on pieces of board connected by wires. he stands up to greet you and gestures to where you can leave your shoes. on the wall above a shoerack are hung multipile pictures of a growing family, all of them framed in disney-style cardboard commererating vists to the same non-disney amusement park. he explains to you that he does not have a scale, and you will have to wait for his friend to get there. you sit down to watch football with him, and this is what happens he stares intently at the screen, sometimes grimacing sometimes clenching his fist victoriously and spitting out a quiet "yes!". when the football men take a break, he asks if you want to smoke and leads you to a smaller room. inside is another L-shaped couch and a smaller television set, already on, with the same football game playing on it. this is the "weed room", and it is far more familiar to you. other than the football you have been in this room many times before. the football man slowly fills a pre-rolled cone, remaining far more engaged with the football than this activity. you smoke it with him and learn that the football is college football, that this is the big championship, and that both teams are known as the tigers. this is not funny to anyone but you. the president is at the football game and there is a closeup of him dressed just like when he was on wwe. you learn the winning team will be honoured with a trip to the white house, this is not funny to anyone but you either. there is another break in the game, you go back to the main room to wait for the man with the scale and this is what happens the man with the scale is taking a really long time. you settle in to watch the football. you know nothing about football, and it is difficult to engage. as you take in the room, you notice that it is in reality a shrine to football. all of the normal accoutrements and decoractions are actually football. the frames on the walls all contain football. a plaque commemerating a football man. tickets to a football game in a shadowbox backed by a picture of a stadium. a picture of a man with a ball and one arm extended doing a football move. the book on the coffetable is about a football coach. on the shelf behind you is a model of a football stadium and action figures of football men. there are leftover christmas cookies, and you eat some. they are homemade. they are very rich but very good. the football game progresses and eventually there is a knock at the door and this is what happens the man with the scale is here. the football man says "what up bro!" but he does it wrong and it's weird. the man with the scale replies "hey man" and they retire to the smoking room, you are not invited. he is the first coloured man you have seen since you got here. he is dressed more like you than anyone you have seen since you got here, in sweats and a t-shirt with a baseball hat. he has a chain with what is presumably his initial on it, and it is the only jewlery you have seen on a man besides the wire-wrapped crystals hanging from your own chain since you got here. he has a patchy beard like your own starting to come in and your heart rises with the hope you have finally met a kindred spirit on these frozen plains. momentarily they emerge from the smoking room, and your heart sinks again. they are animatedly discussing football, and do not stop to greet or introduce you. the game is on, and nothing else matters. you notice that his hat and t-shirt advertise different sports teams, as opposed to the tool manufacturer and radio station on your own. the football continues, and your attempts to participate fall flat. questions about the basic elements of the game fall on deaf ears or are met with derisive one-word answers. at halftime the football man says "that baggie's for you" and you leave way too much money on the table you pick up some actually pretty good weed from. giving up on the idea that the man with the scale may have brought a blunt, you offer to fill one of the bourgouise pre-rolled cones but the game is heating up and no one is interested. you are deeply homesick and very alone. your cousin asks if you are ready to leave, and you are, and this is what happens you offer to buy him some dairy queen, he is not interested but takes you through the drive through. your next stop is taco johns, where he purchases a couple items from the value menu with a gift card. you did not care where you went, and wonder why you are visiting both establishments. he did not mention prefering taco johns. you ask if that was a typical level of enthusiasm for college football around here and he is confused and asks what you mean. you list some of the football memorabilia you noticed, and he says that's nothing. he spends most of the drive home telling you who in the region owns which jeresys and signed footballs. you can actually feel how the divide between your experiences has widened over the years. he drops you at your grandmothers house, and you check her pill minder and turn off all the lights and go to bed. in the morning you write down what happened, desperate for someone to relate to your experience, and post it online, and what happens next? |
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Jan 14, 2020 21:48
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| # ? Apr 26, 2024 08:30 |
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Across the net, what is a tale of loneliness and overwhelming isolation reminds an internet pal about times in his life he's felt the same. Hours spent enduring terse arguments between a dealer and his girlfriend, waiting till it safe to leave. Time spent sitting in parked cars waiting for flaky dealers who of course are 3 hours late for the appointment, waiting cause you drove an hour to get here and the only thing that makes sense is waiting. An acid trip a decade ago, where a neighbour joined in after it had kicked in and his vibe was bad and he complained about the dearth of heroin in the city. We pick our tribe, and stories can be almost as good as friends to make you feel less alone. A friends story? Now that's like double fisting mugs of good time juice. |
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Jan 14, 2020 22:06
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if i weed i am deport, op what to do https://giant.gfycat.com/ThoseAcrobaticCapybara.webm |
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Jan 15, 2020 18:15
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didn’t read 
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Jan 18, 2020 06:13
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