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I had a feed of it the other day, and I didn't come to until this morning. ""Well," started Stryder, " it has these rather funny leaves on it, and it gives off a bit of an odour, but since I hadn't seen it around before I decided it must be alright to eat, as it was with all the other delicacies.I didn't count on the aftereffects though, and still can't explain it."Derek noted the confused look on the centipede's face and decided then that this creature was indeed confused about something, and apparently no immediate threat to his survival.Marcel removed the well-worn Army surplus Zippo his father had left him from his jeans pocket, and just as Breathe started up on the CD player, took to the reefer with relish, lighting and dragging deeply in one precise well practised motion, dragging the first smoke deep into his decaying lungs. But the sudden intrusion of the hot harsh smoke had snapped him out of his reverie, and as he was sucked out of the leaf with a sudden gush, clarity permeated his mind, and fear took hold.He held it for about ten seconds, savouring the hit as it started to spread. Sure, the sudden change in circumstances, the jostling and the rolling, and even more rolling were scary, but by that stage, the first three bites had been consumed and he was tripping away into centipede nirvana again. The wind carried him down into a deep and moist crevasse, follicles of tiny hair reaching out to grab him. His paranoia took over and in his moment of fear, he bit into the fleshy cavity, releasing his venomous protective juices to try and defend himself.This Stryder was right, this was a new one, and weird to boot, but those leaves sure looked inviting."Mmm, and you said you didn't remember what had happened to you for two days, yet there are no other side effects, right?
They ran as fast as they could, scrambled over the five-foot boundary fence and raced for the vegetable garden, not entirely aware of the noise they were making, nor the destruction they created on their flight from the fence to the garden.The overriding need to get the pot consumed their every thought and stifled their need to be undiscovered.Hell, it didn't matter anyway, they were the only potheads around these parts anyway, and they wouldn't get killed over one tiny plant, that's for sure.No movement in the house, from the garden, or the yard, and the garage door wide open and the Mercury not in its secure stowage.The two bikers refilled their glasses and sat down to wait out the time they had decided on.
He withdrew the plant from his pocket, placed the now rolled leaf on the sheets of paper, and began to roll them together between his dextrous and nimble fingers, long used to doing this delicate task.