Absolute Smokeshow

When The Bong Breaks

"Shit!"
You startle awake at the sound of your guest swearing loudly. The two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch, judging by the sunlight streaming through the windows and the smudges in Rhea's makeup. Wiping drool away from the edge of your mouth, you move to sit up.
"Stay there!" You froze at the command. Rhea elaborated, "I accidentally ran into your bong on the way to the bathroom and knocked it over. There's glass on the floor. Broom?" You point in the direction of your cleaning supplies, yawning and stretching before rubbing your eyes. Once she returned, you watched groggily as the woman clad in black and purple took a broom, dust pan, and paper towels to the mess on the floor.
"Thanks for getting that," you mumble.
"'Course," Rhea replied, "I'm the one who knocked it over." Her brow furrowed, she seemed contemplative as she took the glass shards and soaked towels to the trash.

"Am I good to use the floor now?" you call out.
"Should be good- So hey," Rhea seemed to interrupt herself, turning around and walking in your direction, "Breaking your bong was a shitty way to thank you for smoking me out last night" - her demeanor seemed casual, but she wasn't making eye contact; it was obvious she wasn't used to apologizing - "So if you have time today, we can get you a replacement. My treat."
Not a hint of a "sorry," but offering to replace the piece for you was still a pretty good non-apology. You smiled, "I definitely have time."

You both freshened up, Rhea borrowed your phone charger, and you threw together some breakfast. The head shop didn't open until noon, so the morning was fairly leisurely - until you heard Rhea sigh as she checked her phone. Before you could ask what was wrong, she unplugged the charger and ducked into the other room, closing the door. Letting her have her privacy, you start cleaning off remnants of the night before from the table in front of the couch.

"You said you wanted ME to "figure it out" for MYSELF. I'm not going to report back every little DETAIL-" the muffled shouting cut off as abruptly as it had begun. You weren't trying to eavesdrop, but was it really eavesdropping if she was being that loud?
"No, NO. I do NOT want to hear about your night either... Dom!"
The rest of the conversation was at a lower volume, unintelligible from where you were. After a few minutes, you heard the door open and Rhea walked back in, looking equally angry and depressed.

"Almost time yet?" she asked, putting on the battle vest she had taken off last night.
"We can leave now and get there around when they open," you reply, sensing her need to set her attention on something else.

About half an hour later, you're both walking through the doors of the head shop. An older man with long, silver hair and a tie-dye shirt approaches the two of you, "Couldn't wait for us to open, eh?" - he winks - "Now I'm afraid I'm gonna have to see some ID before I can let you go any further."
He scans both IDs you hand him and nods, giving them back.
"So, what can I get you rad ladies today?"
"We would love to see your selection of" - you look back and forth dramatically and loudly whisper behind your hand - "...waterpipes."
The man chuckles, "Right on, right on. Follow me." Walking past all manner of bright, beautiful, and strange stoner supplies, the three of you head to the back of the store. You stop at a long, tall set of shelves with a glass door keeping the pieces locked inside.
"Here you are!" the man gestured to the rows of bongs, "Feel free to browse our selection and give me a holler if anything strikes your fancy."
"Thank you!" you grin as you watch the bright colors of the tie-dye shirt recede back to the front of the store.

"So," Rhea prompted, "you know what you need. Any of these it?"
A look back at the shelves stocked with colorful shapes and the price tags begin to catch your eye. "W-what, um," you stutter a bit, "What's my price limit?" It felt like a rude question to ask, but you didn't want to request more than what was being offered.
"Limit?" a haughty smirk made its way onto her face, "None. I owe you a new piece. Besides, I'm making that beat-people-up money." You can't help but smile as she flexes.

"Duuuude, is that Rhea Ripley?" you look up to see two stoners who had obviously pre-gamed their trip to the store, speaking in what they seemed to think were hushed tones.
"Don't stare or nothin' - she doesn't just fight women, she can beat up dudes!" the other responded.
Rhea clearly heard them too, turning around to glare at the pair. One let out a squeak as they quickly averted their gaze and pretended to look at the nearest display case. Muffling your laughter with your hand, you watch Rhea roll her eyes.

It takes a while, but you finally decide on a sturdy-looking piece and have the kind man who greeted you pack it in bubble wrap for the drive back home. "Just head on over to the first register and Bud can ring you up," the man said, going behind the counter for a bag. The two of you walk to the register manned by an employee whose name tag read "Bud."

"Your name is really Bud?" you try not to seem too amused while addressing the man behind the counter.
"Nah," he smiled, "but they let you go by whatever you want here so I thought, why not?"
He rings you up and Rhea hands him her card. Bud's eyes widen as he looks at the name on the card, then up at the woman next to you, then back again.
"Are you THE Rhea Ripley?" He asks, baffled.
She sighs, "Yeah, that's me."
Once you exit the store, Rhea asks aloud, "How do they all recognize me? I thought Matt Riddle was the king of the stoners?"
A grin sweeps over your face as you unlock the car and carefully place the bong between the items in the trunk, "Let's head back to mine and break in the new bong, queen of the stoners."
Rhea elbows you slightly, "Using "break" and "bong" in the same sentence? I'm not living this down, am I?"