“Duuuuude…” I said. “I’m boooooooored.”

Getting high and watching TV seemed like a great idea at the time. Phenomenal. But fast forward a few hours later… 

“You, uh, wanna watch a movie?” my stoner buddy Derrick asked.

“We have nothing,” I yawngroaned. “We’ve seen them all and they weren’t even that good the first time.” 

I idly flicked Cheetos at the dog, which had probably farted again but you would never smell it in the thick dense of this room anyway.

“Being a teenager SUCKS,” said an exasperated Derrick, retreading familiar territory for us both.

“I know right! Think about it: when we’re 19, we can be out Every. Single. Night.”

“Hittin’ on chicks,” chimed in the sleazebag in the corner.

I threw a pillow cushion at him. “Hittin’ on your mum.”

There was a knock at the door. I snap looked at Derrick with my mouth open. “Are we expecting anyone?” His eyebrows raised in shock said it all.

“Shit hidethebonghidethebonghidethebong!” He picked up the bong and frantically tiptoed towards the cabinet, sizing up holes and making a couple of false attempts as I frantically waved a tea towel under the ceiling fan.

“Who is it?” I called out between over exaggerated fans. “Open up,” I’m sure I heard a deep male voice reply. “THE COOOOOOOOOPS!” I hissed. “Oh man the cops! How did they know how did they know? My parents are gonna kill me.” I dropped the tea towel, jumped off the seat and ran to the mirror to check myself.

Derrick ran to me at the mirror and slapped me. Hard.

“Thanks man.”

I gave my cheeks are cursory glance in the reflection to make sure they weren’t red, wiped my eyes and fixed my long hair with a quick pat, tucking it behind my ears.

We’d been suspiciously long, so I ran to the front door, opening it and clearing my throat in one movement. In my best law-abiding voice, I dropped a suave, “Good evening…”

The Pakistani pizza delivery guy was courteous to a fault. “Your large meatlovers, sir.”