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Big Bubba

A short story i had written for an advanced creative writing class, about friends, trouble and weed.

Big Bubba

By James Gersbeck

It finally reached about noon when I had enough of the day’s boredom, and decided to call Phil up. My house was desolate anyway and I needed to either get out or do something that called me away from pointless masturbation and scheduled television. I sat scrolling through the mindlessly entrancing posts of Facebook waiting for Phil when I heard the small “pop” that was followed by an instant message. Staring back at me in pearlescent white lettering was my ex-girlfriends name, and a message below reading “I miss you…” I had to act fast with no hesitation in my response. Quickly, I grabbed the screen of my laptop and slammed it shut, “Fuck that,” I whispered, as I let out a small gasp of relief

. About five minutes after the succubus messaged me, Phil finally called to let me know he was parked in my driveway. I collected my things and made my way to the front door to head out and meet Phil. He was standing outside of his car leaning against the driver side door waiting for me. His pin straight black hair was tied back into a ponytail, except the little bit that had escaped the confines of the hair band and hung in front of his eyes. He was wearing an old Pink Floyd shirt that might have belonged to his father, and his jeans were marked and scarred from concerts past.

“What’s going on, my dude?” he said.

“You know, man: same old shit, how about you?” I was in arm’s length now, his hand at the ready, waiting for the typical handshake and bro hug.

“Same man. So you wanna hop in the whip dude?”

“Hell yeah, I didn’t just call you over here to knit a fuckin sweater.” I made my way to the passenger door and got in. His car smelled exactly the way it always does, like cigarettes and fresh pot.

“Hey man I got a surprise for you,” I said. A smile started to grow on his face,

“Oh yeah man? What kind of surprise?” He said.

“It’s some new shit”

“Oh really man? What’s this one called?” I was poking at his curiosity, he had just the slightest tint of it sparkling in his eyes.

“This one man is called Big Bubba Kush. It’s like Bubba Kush but this shit man, like you remember that Afgu Cheese I had, well compared to this, that shit smelled like dryer sheets.” His eyes where now glistening with excitement.

“Are you serious man? That was some dank shit.”

“Here man, smell for yourself.” There was no hesitation, he couldn't get the bag out of my hands and up to his nose any faster. All it took was one nose-full of pure bliss and he was sold.

“Pack that shit up right this second.” I pulled my pipe out of my pocket and began to pack the bowl. The more pot I broke up, the more tacky my fingers got and the more Phil’s mouth salivated. I was almost done at this point, green began to gorge up out it, making a soft grassy hill at the end of the bowl. Phil was already ahead of me, waiting to take the first hit with his purple Bic lighter ready in hand.

“Alright my dude here you go.” I handed him the glass pipe, admiring all the little details in it, from the way the scintillating purple and silver flakes rested against the flat black background, to the way the glass bubbled out in different sizes on a few spots near the bowl. He took the bowl from my hand and eyed it over for a second, taking in that moment right before the first hit of something new, something wonderful, something bliss. And as quickly as the moment came, it went, vanished even, disappeared without a trace. Phil’s smile shriveled down to a frown as his eyes caught the rear view mirror of his car.

“Holy crap Tom your mom’s home, hide this shit.”

“Calm down man, just calm the fuck down.”

“Dude your mom’s right there, she’s going to see this shit and she’s going to flip a shit.”

“Don’t worry I’ll handle this.” My mom’s car was already parked and she was gathering her things getting ready to head inside. As she got out of the car, I hurried and threw the bag on the floor and prayed she wouldn’t see. She stepped out of her car and bent down a little, tapping on the closed window with manicured nails telling us to roll it down.

“Hey honey, how’s your day? And who’s your friend?” She always put on this fake “I’m the world’s greatest mom” act when we had company, like she was Carol Brady or something.

“Mom this is my friend Phil from college. Phil this is my mom.”

“Very nice to meet you Phil.” In that moment things went from bad to worse, she got that look like she had just gotten wind of something, she knew it and I knew it. She bent over to poke her nose into the car a little. Phil and I glared at each other as she started taking a couple whiffs of the car until her eye caught sight of the bag on the floor.

“Hey Tom, what is that on the floor?” I knew she saw it, this was it, I could tell poor Phil wanted to get the hell out of there, the sweat was already starting to accumulate under his arms staining his shirt slightly, and on his forehead. “I’m going to ask you one more time Tom, what’s that on the floor by your foot?” She said.

“It’s nothing. Okay mom.” I tried to remain calm as if I played it cool she would just go away, even though I knew that wasn't the case

“Pick it up and show me it Tom.” The only thought that was drilling through the back of my skull was of how much shit I’m in, and there wasn't a dammed thing that I could do about it. I grabbed the half full sandwich bag, and before I could even get it near the window she reached in and swiped it right out of my hand. She eyed the bag then she looked at me, then back to the bag and back to me, each look was filled with more disgust and anger then the last.

“Are you serious right now Thomas? My Bubba Kush?”

“What? I was gonna put it back. It wasn't like I was going to take it all, just a little for the two of us

“Still Thomas it’s MY Bubba Kush. You don’t just take things that don’t belong to you.”
 

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than storiesspace.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright {now.year} by James Gersbeck

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