My Best Friend is a Wookiee by Tony Pacitti

Author:Tony Pacitti
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, ebook
Publisher: Adams Media, Inc.
Published: 2010-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

The week and a half of punishment — Mom let me out early on the grounds of good behavior — gave me time to move on from the horror of my first run-in with Johnny Law, but I was still quite shaken up by the whole thing. Maybe the guys were too. But they didn’t strike me as the types to give much of a shit about what the police thought, then or ever. All of them except Jason, who I hoped was just as shaken up by it all as I was. But he didn’t really seem to be bothered either by the situation or by being defined by the company he kept.

Who was I to talk? I was by no stretch of the imagination a pothead, then or ever, but at the time I wove their freak flag kinda-sorta proudly. And while I may not have bought into it, other people bought that I bought into it. One classmate actually called me a week after eighth grade got out and asked me if I could sell him a dime bag. Even better — or worse, depending on how you look at it — was the time that Queef asked me to roll him a joint using dried-up maple leaves and notebook paper.

“You hang out with all those potheads,” he said as he handed me the materials for what was easily one of the lamest things I’ve ever made. I rolled, and he toked. Passing the maple leaf joint over to me, he stated proudly: “Dude, I’m totally getting something off this!”

“Bullshit, man, they’re leaves. You don’t ‘get something’ off of leaves.”

“Come on, Nolan, I’m seriously getting a buzz here! Take a fucking hit, man!”

After a brutal stare-down, which I lost to the superior firepower of Queef ’s goofball grin, I caved. I smoked a maple leaf spliff rolled with CVS brand notebook paper. How could I have played such an instrumental role in something so pro-foundly stupid and not partake? The whole incident stands out as the lowest point in my accomplished career as a fake stoner.

But while I faked my way to a bad reputation, Jason was firmly cementing himself as one of junior high’s official reefer delegates, complete with a big marijuana-leaf patch sewn on to the back of his hat. I don’t know who he thought he was fooling. Certainly not my mom, who years after the fact made a comment about it. I believe her exact words were, “I don’t know who he thought he was fooling. Certainly not me!”

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