So, as I mentioned before about the marijuana and myself. A lot of these stories involve me and a friend of mine named Dre. We both worked at the airport back in the day, and like I said, we were instant friends. Friends in weed indeed. I don know what the fuck our problem was, we were just blatant with it. You see, we worked between two and ten pm, so we had basically the whole morning to smoke. From ten until one thirty, it was a smoky mess. Dre was the drinker, so he always had a deuce or two of old English or some shit. At the time I couldn’t stand beer, or liquor even. My, how times have changed I guess.
We would normally be smoking a blunt right up until we got to the parking lot of the job. I still don’t know what the fuck we were thinking of. But as far as I am concerned, it wasn’t really frowned upon then. All of us smoked weed, at least most of us did. We sold weed to one another like it was no problem. We got paid every Tuesday, there was a van outside that cashed our checks, shit was sweet. I could buy an ounce from someone on Wednesday, and don’t have to pay them until the next week. When I was selling, I wanted my dough right then and there. I guess that’s why I didn’t sell as much to in house folks. Haters.
This day will live in infamy. We were there for a while at this point, and we were pretty good at what we did. Fueling planes is a heavy assed hard job if you let it be. We never took lunch, always left early, and always had someone punch us out on the time clock. We pretty much had it made.
One day, we come in, glassy eyed. We laughing at shit tat wasn’t even funny. That morning, we smoked some pep, strong assed pep at that. The odor was just lingering. We didn’t care one bit. We was high as hell. But then again, I don’t think there was a time when we weren’t.
There was a big black dude named Bill. Cool as hell. Every guy that cam in he shook their hand, and told them to have a good day. He was the duty manager or something. Everyone respected the shit out of him, like he was the godfather or something. That is the kind of aura he had.
So, this one day, its all going normal as usual. Bill shakes both our hands, but he has this look in his eyes. You could feel it. The dispatch office was filled with everyone, because it was pay day, so it was pretty much packed. Bill calls us in the radio room. And it wasn’t like the room was private, its right where we went to pick up our jobs for the day, with the little window and shit. So it is pretty much visible. Dre and me are souped up, because we think he is calling us in there to give us a promotion, or a special assignment or some shit. So we was walking around to the door, laughing about pipe dreams we had, we just knew we was about to get some type of status or promotion. I mean what the fuck else could it be?
So Bill starts off;
“You know you boys are like my sons and shit, you both work real good, and we are glad you are here, but,
YOU TWO MOTHERFUCKERS ALWAYS SMELL LIKE THE BEST BUSH ON THIS SIDE OF THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANET EARTH, WE KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YA’LL DO, B UT GAT DAMNIT, CAN YOU BE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING OBVIOUS THAN TO ROLL UP IN HERE SMELLING LIKE THAT SHIT EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY? SHIT!!!”
Man, Dre and me collectively shrunk to about three inches. Bill was a little taller than us, but this dude looked like a giant that day. We looked to our left, and we saw everybody in a hushed silence. Managers, co workers, secretaries, everyone was looking like they wanted to just fall out. The assholes did. The assholes were the ones we were cool with. We didn’t even to bother go back out to the dispatch room. We slid our as out the back, embarrassed as hell. I didn’t even get the keys to my favorite truck that day. While we were driving on the ramp, we would pass someone, and hear shit like;
“hey bush brother, what gate you working at next?”
“at least bill didn’t say you smelled like the best pussy”
“wanna smoke during lunch bush brother number 1?”
Fuck you, was our responses. We had a dilemma on the way home. So we are sitting in the truck, smoking of course. Our peoples Derrick came up with the master plan;
“Maybe you dudes should just stop smoking”
Dre was like, “you know what derrick? How about you get the fuck out my truck and walk the fuck home?”
Yeah Derrick, shut the fuck up, dumb ass. Stop smoking? This nigga done lost his mind I thought. Even though in the back of my mind, it was an option. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, the plan was set. The next day, me and Dre went to walgreens. We bought everything in the store seemed like. Toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorant, cocoa butter, cologne, everything we could find to mask the weed scent, hell, we even got the new car scent.
Nothing changed, we still smoked until we got in the parking lot. But while in the lot, high as hell, I mean we were goofy high. We doused ourselves with cocoa butter, baby oil, right guard, cheap Walgreen cologne, we even sprayed the new car scent. We went into the office, still high, but not smelling life reefer though. We walk in, and we see Bill. As always, he shakes our hands. He then smells his hands, shakes our hands again, smells his own hand again. Gives us a funny look, and then sniffs us. And then he says;
“Ok, I guess ya’ll understand shit now, but, did you niggas break into my new car or something?
Posts
