Don’t worry,
it’ll take about half an hour to work and you’ll feel great. Chill out man! You both need to.” He replied with no concern
or remorse at what he’d just done.
“Brendon..I
CANNOT believe you have done this to me..I really can’t ..what the hell?” I gushed trying to think. “Since when have
you been taking Marijuana?
Seriously..You know, you, the child who wouldn’t even
entertain Ritalin because it masks your real personality. The one who is always telling me that alcohol
is bad, and fatty foods and you should train hard. Now you think this is OK? So now you do drugs?”
“And” Karl interjected.
“I am supposed to be driving home – did that cross your mind? Now I can’t go anywhere. You’re an idiot.”
“CALM DOWN.
Sheesh.” He laughed “And this is the problem; the war on drugs. Actually Mother
I only have it now and then, which is a lot less than most people. All
teenagers at school are doing it. It
doesn’t hurt you, it’s not addictive, and no one has ever died from it. Not
like they do with alcohol or tobacco which IS legal. DUH. You don’t get
aggressive, like with alcohol – you just get happy and chilled. How is that bad? Anyway, I knew you’d react
like this so I’ve sent some links to your e mail from YouTube, Harvard
scientists, Reddit, and ‘The Amazing Atheist’. Shit, that dude is awesome!”
This is what
he did to me. Always a step ahead of the game and bombarding me with
information to support his actions so I couldn’t argue from the seat of my
pants.
“IT IS STILL
AN ILLEGAL DRUG. HELLO!” I
shouted.”AND I DO NOT WANT YOU TAKING IT. END OF. AND I CERTAINLY DON’T WANT
YOU DRUGGING ME FOR YOUR OWN ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. YOU’RE THE CONTROL FREAK!”
“It’s legal
in Colorado and California.” He justified.
“This is
ENGLAND not Hollywood!”
“Well, it
should be legal. So should prostitution, cocaine..anything. Its peoples free choice. Taking away freedom is bad. There’d be a lot more money if the government
legalised weed and put tax on it. There’d be more jobs, more money for health
centres, less money spent on policing petty drug crimes. Pound for pound, marijuana costs more than
gold, so think about it.” He said. “Read
all the information and understand the facts before you start going psycho.”
“Freedom? Oh freedom! Right! What about MY FREE
WILL? Oh wait...YOU just took that away by giving me WHACKY CAKE!” I retorted.
Karl lifted
his hand to indicate he wanted to speak, like we were in a board meeting or
something.
“Legalising
drugs is a ridiculous idea and only something a nearly 16 year old would
say. Marijuana is a gateway drug for a
start. What next Brendon? Ecstasy? Cocaine?
If we legalise any drug you’d have a bunch of Muppets who never did
anything in the country.” Karl removed his coat and pinched the top of his nose
with his fingers. I knew he’d be getting
annoyed but now it was not his place to start a fight in our home.
“You’re
living in the dark ages Dad.” Brendon retorted. “Get on the RIGHT side of history.” He shook his
head and left the room.
“I can’t
believe he’s done this.” I looked at Karl who was rubbing his hand across his
mouth and developing that tight, mean look on his face.
“I’m going
to have to stay here now.” He looked over at me with raised eyebrows to
question if that was going to be ok. “I can’t feel it working yet though, maybe
I’ll be immune to it.”
“Yeah,
that’s fine..did you have plans tonight?” I felt terribly guilty and parentally
inadequate. “I can’t feel anything either
but then I never did when I was younger and tried it.” I said.
In my past
I’d often had a draw on some boyfriends’ roach at a party but had never
experienced that ‘cool and easy reggae vibe’ that everyone else did. I think I was just too hyperactive and the
nearest thing to have possibly got me into that state would be being shot with
a wild animal tranquiliser.
“No plans
especially.” He said. We both sat there
for several minutes in silence; shell-shocked and awaiting some sort of
revelation.
And then it
happened.
I felt the faint onset of nausea. A wave of something taking hold and denying
my body the ability to control.
“Oh God, I feel sick..”
I stood up and my legs began to tremble. I tried to make my way to the kitchen and I
felt as though I was walking on sponge. I stamped my feet harder to try and make the feeling
disappear but it didn’t work. I was
getting hot and flustered and the palpitations were doing zumba in my chest.
“Whoa..I
don’t like it, I don’t like it...” I clasped my hands to my ears because I felt
I could hear the ocean. What? “I’m going
to KILL him!” I said, as I made my way
delicately through the lounge.
Once in the kitchen I felt incredibly weird,
like I might possibly faint, or even worse, die. Standing was proving difficult
and I was unsure if I was about to do an ‘Exorcist’ special and projectile
vomit everywhere. If I was I was going
to, it will be on Brendon I thought spitefully. I decided to lie on the floor in case death
was imminent and as I placed my face on the cool tiles I felt a rush of dizziness,
so I shut my eyes, ready to meet my maker.
Several minutes later I was being shaken awake by Brendon.
“Mum, MUM! Wake up! You can’t go to sleep. It will make you feel ill.” He said laughing at me and trying to pull me
up.
I looked up
at him from the floor where I lay.
“You’re the spawn of the devil.” I said. “AND I’m not the devil.” I added.
I could vaguely make out Karl standing in the background, laughing like
a child. “YOU ARE the devil!” I said in his direction. “You’re both devils. Evil.
I am but a pure and wonderful angel, sullied and beaten down by your
wickedness.” For some reason I had
become all biblical and actually believed this to be true.
“Yes,
Mum. You’re an angel.” Brendon sighed. “But
an angel who needs some toast or something.”
“Don’t you
feed me another goddam thing you poisonous...poisoner!
You just went and bit the hand that feeds you. I fed you love and you fed me
pain. I stopped for a minute thinking
how poignant that was. “Where’s my ipad?
Have you taken it? Where is it? I need
to make notes....”
Karl was
just laughing his head off like a little kid.
“Oh that’s fucking hilarious.”
“Why are you
laughing?” I started to snicker
too. At absolutely nothing and yet I was
as tickled as fat, drunk monk.
Karl was
crying with happiness. Tears were
running out of his eyes. His nose was
running and his mouth was dribbling.
“Why is your
face just continually leaking?” I asked
with concern.
This just
made him chuckle all the more. He was doubled over on the kitchen counter, head
in hands, shaking with rapturous joy. I
had never witnessed such a sight.
“Where’s my
ipad?” I asked out loud to no one in particular, as I wandered through to my
study, in search of it.
“Mum, I’m
making you some toast!” Brendon shouted after
me as I mooched aimlessly around.
“Go back
from whence you came.” I waved my arm at him as if to dismiss him from my space.
“And say HI to Beelzebub when you get there.” I couldn’t find my ipad anywhere.
The smell of
hot buttered toast wafted in my direction and I suddenly felt quite
peckish. “Gosh, I am actually quite
hungry.”
Karl was
already eating some and asking Brendon if he’d got any chocolate.
“I know
Mum. It makes you starving. You’ll probably want to eat loads.”
“Starving? No.
Not starving. You can’t even
comprehend starving.” I replied. I
picked up my toast and delighted in its buttery flavour. It tasted so much nicer than usual. After one and a half slices I’d had
enough. That’s when the epiphany hit me.
“Wow! You
know what?” I said, putting down my half slice of toast, “Nobody really needs
two slices of toast, it’s just greedy.
One and a half is more than enough.
If we ALL saved that other half instead of needlessly shoving it down
our throats regardless, we could feed the world.”
“The world?”
said Brendon.
“Well yes,
maybe – there’s a lot of bread knocking around in houses you know!” I continued to gabble on, verbalising the
stream of amazing thoughts that were washing through my monkey brain.
“I mean look at all the food we waste..we
could take our leftovers and extra bits of stew and whatever and leave it in
phone boxes!” I enthused.
“What the
fuck?” Karl spat out his toast at the
thought and began to laugh all over again.
“What the
hell is wrong with you? I think you’re possessed.” I said starting to laugh
myself.
“Seriously, I’ve
seen homeless people eating in phone boxes before. We should all take our food there. Buy extra and leave it in the box. We could even bring back the iconic red phone
boxes for this very purpose! Yes! Marvellous.
They could be the soup kitchens of the future!
“Mum that’s
the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“There’s no
point in soup kitchens if you can’t read.” I stated.
“What?” Said Karl, wiping the stream of steady tears
from his face.
“If you can’t
read then you can’t see that it says ‘Soup Kitchen’ can you. DUH. But everyone
can see a red phone box. Even
foreigners will understand that. People
who have sought asylum here will even understand that. It’s perfect!” I exclaimed in delight.
“What if
they’re colour blind?” Brendon asked.
“It’s still
a bloody phone box!” I retorted.
“But what if
they’re totally blind?” Karl giggled.
“Do you know
what? This is just typical of your lack of creativity. You two with your cerebral brains, wanting to
rain on my parade because you’re incapable of thinking outside the box. Go to
hell!”
“What box
Mum? The phone box?”
I wandered
through the house marvelling at how I was going to change the world.
“Oh my God,
it’s brilliant! Where’s my ipad?” I
looked around hoping it would make itself visible. My astounding lucidity just HAD
to be written.
