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notsopeacefulKeith and I watch cartoons in the morning, sitting in front of the television in our pajamas while we eat breakfast. He woke me up one morning with scrambled eggs and sausage from Mickey D's, and he called me babes -- he picked it up from Beetlejuice, which we watch just to see who has the stronger stomach -- while we were eating. The horrified look on his face made me laugh so hard I nearly choked. He felt so bad he let me make screwdrivers to wash down breakfast.
By noon I had him drunk enough to smoke with me. We lit up on the deck, leaning over the railing and talking as we passed the joint back and forth. (We made all the necessary Just Say No and Nancy Reagan jokes.) I handed it to him once and all he did was stare at it until I nudged him, told him to smoke or share. He let me take it back, but I got shivers when he watched me inhale. "Let's go inside," I said. "It's cold."
There's this look guys get, this utterly transparent look. I've seen it on Paul, on Eric. I never expected to see it on Keith. But there we were, sitting on his couch a little high and a little drunk on a Sunday afternoon. There was football on television and that look on Keith's face. I was supposed to let him pretend to look me in the eye and I was supposed to let him say something I didn't want to hear. I covered his mouth with my fingers just before he could speak. "Don't," I said. I got up. "I'm going to take a shower."
I locked the bathroom door like it would put more distance between us and that thing in his eyes. The water was lukewarm and I couldn't believe I wasted weed on that.
By noon I had him drunk enough to smoke with me. We lit up on the deck, leaning over the railing and talking as we passed the joint back and forth. (We made all the necessary Just Say No and Nancy Reagan jokes.) I handed it to him once and all he did was stare at it until I nudged him, told him to smoke or share. He let me take it back, but I got shivers when he watched me inhale. "Let's go inside," I said. "It's cold."
There's this look guys get, this utterly transparent look. I've seen it on Paul, on Eric. I never expected to see it on Keith. But there we were, sitting on his couch a little high and a little drunk on a Sunday afternoon. There was football on television and that look on Keith's face. I was supposed to let him pretend to look me in the eye and I was supposed to let him say something I didn't want to hear. I covered his mouth with my fingers just before he could speak. "Don't," I said. I got up. "I'm going to take a shower."
I locked the bathroom door like it would put more distance between us and that thing in his eyes. The water was lukewarm and I couldn't believe I wasted weed on that.
