El Senor, a deaf man, walks behind me at Hastings. Normally, I do this because I know he's deaf and I like fucking with him when he doesn't have his hearing aids on. Otherwise, I wouldn't ever walk in front of him. As I'm leading him towards the book I'm reading, Hunter S. Thomas's Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, I talk to him over my shoulder. Under my arm, I'm holding four magazines, all them cannabis related: Weed World, Cannabis Culture, the almighty High Times and High Time's Grow Guide 2008. This, plus what Adam gave me at his house is going to be my research material. Not to mention the oodles of books I'm trying to get online and for cheap.
Damn, I think, my stomach's growling. If it keeps up like this, I won't be able to mess with El for very long before having to cave in and take Ol Biker's offer for cooking us food. Damn, BBQ did sound mighty delicious. I turned around and muttered something at El. Something both smart and corny all rolled into one. I kept talking, faster words and smiling.
"You know you're walking ahead of me and I can't hear you, right?" he says. I turn around and smile, move my mouth really quickly and said, "Why the hell do you think I'm doing it for?" At the shelves, I do a little ISBN/Title shopping. Hastings hates people like me and the evidence is on the books. The damn bastards place the label nicely over the bar code, covering all or some of the ISBN. El picks up on this as well. Little do they know, or can't do anything about it, ISBNs are also kept inside on the copyright page. However, too lazy, I just take down titles and last names. It takes me a few seconds to get the author S.T. Oner name, solely because I focus only on Oner.
We plop ourselves down on the table and flip through magazine articles. None of them are appealing enough. Weed World, however, captures my attention, but is highly (no pun) over price. Instead, I opt for Cannabis Culture and High Times because the articles in there are just as interesting. Besides, High Times has a picture of this girl named Emily (second to the last girl, holding a joint) in there that I find highly (yeah, this could be a pun) attractive. I'm beginning to wonder if El is getting hungry and if my stomach pains can be heard. I felt the same way when I was at Adam's and the sandwich, my second one of the day, didn't seem to do anything for my hunger. Lately, it seems, I've given up on so much that even feeding myself has become an awful chore. Fuck it, I say, call Ol Biker and let's get us some food.
I pick up Cannabis Culture, go back to the racks to get a tear-free issue of High Times. We get in line and El Senor sees the cookies Hastings keeps as impulse buys. I turn around and tell him they're the best cookies ever. This cookie is the first piece of food he's had since toking up at Adam's. It doesn't take much convincing him, he buys one.
Damn, I think, my stomach's growling. If it keeps up like this, I won't be able to mess with El for very long before having to cave in and take Ol Biker's offer for cooking us food. Damn, BBQ did sound mighty delicious. I turned around and muttered something at El. Something both smart and corny all rolled into one. I kept talking, faster words and smiling.
"You know you're walking ahead of me and I can't hear you, right?" he says. I turn around and smile, move my mouth really quickly and said, "Why the hell do you think I'm doing it for?" At the shelves, I do a little ISBN/Title shopping. Hastings hates people like me and the evidence is on the books. The damn bastards place the label nicely over the bar code, covering all or some of the ISBN. El picks up on this as well. Little do they know, or can't do anything about it, ISBNs are also kept inside on the copyright page. However, too lazy, I just take down titles and last names. It takes me a few seconds to get the author S.T. Oner name, solely because I focus only on Oner.
We plop ourselves down on the table and flip through magazine articles. None of them are appealing enough. Weed World, however, captures my attention, but is highly (no pun) over price. Instead, I opt for Cannabis Culture and High Times because the articles in there are just as interesting. Besides, High Times has a picture of this girl named Emily (second to the last girl, holding a joint) in there that I find highly (yeah, this could be a pun) attractive. I'm beginning to wonder if El is getting hungry and if my stomach pains can be heard. I felt the same way when I was at Adam's and the sandwich, my second one of the day, didn't seem to do anything for my hunger. Lately, it seems, I've given up on so much that even feeding myself has become an awful chore. Fuck it, I say, call Ol Biker and let's get us some food.
I pick up Cannabis Culture, go back to the racks to get a tear-free issue of High Times. We get in line and El Senor sees the cookies Hastings keeps as impulse buys. I turn around and tell him they're the best cookies ever. This cookie is the first piece of food he's had since toking up at Adam's. It doesn't take much convincing him, he buys one.
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