At around the one-month mark, I sat in the park after school and a kid named Jonah busted out a joint. “Let’s smoke,” he said. “Nah, I can’t. I can’t smoke during the week or I’m fucked. I’ll never do my homework if I smoke now.” “Oh, c’mon, smoke now, you’ll get your head straight by six and then do your homework. That’s what I’m doing.” Oh yeah! It made so much sense now. Smoke and then do the work! At six. Do the work at six. Work at six. Six. Six. Six. Six. 666. I grabbed the joint. Oblivion. Of course at six, I was sitting in a bush with Donny smoking and drinking Maybeck away. Three
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