45 lines
1.5 KiB
Plaintext
45 lines
1.5 KiB
Plaintext
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"Epoxy"
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Larry interrupted: "Ah, come on. The stuff that Kerouac was smoking
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wouldn't approach the potency of a bottom leaf of this plant. The best
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they had back then was low grade Mex. But then again, maybe he smoked
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some early strains of the good shit."
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Dave raised the waterpipe. "Yeah, I guess. Well, whatever works.
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Aren't we fortunate today to have considerate pioneers who, through
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careful selective breeding for potency, have blessed the earth with
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excellent weed !"
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Dave took in a grandiose cloud. With a clownlike grimace he held it in
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his lungs.
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Larry motioned impatiently for Dave to pass the device. "Well, I know
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one thing and that's... I'm high already." Dave exhaled the spent air
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and added:
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"Guess what ?"
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"What ?"
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"I'm glued to this chair."
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"Huh."
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"No -- you don't understand. I'm GLUED to this chair."
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Larry looked at the seat and indeed Dave was writhing in epoxy.
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Stunned, Larry leaned forward. "You're..."
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"Told you..."
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"...really glued there."
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Dave sprang to his feet with the chair pivoting, balanced on his back,
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and as he contorted back and forth, the chair held on with a dogged
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barnacle furiosity and would not budge.
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"Shit ! This isn't funny !"
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The chair was in fact not moving and appeared almost as a natural
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outgrowth of Dave.
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"Guess I'll have to sit down, then." Dave resumed the appropriate
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position. The chair was no longer wrestling a hold but was now an
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inanimate object. When Larry focused on the Chair, it glanced back at
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him with a wooden coolness. The epoxy was gone.
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