Friends Like These

9:00

The drive to the donut shop was mesmerizing. In a small town like ours, the highway was always kinda empty, especially at night. I was afraid that I would start seeing horrid hallucinations from the street lights, and smoking another joint in the car didn't exactly help my odds.
Instead, the street lights greeted me with open arms as we drove past. The regular yellow glow seemed to become a pure collection of colors and light. This beautiful sight was accompanied with the blaring of music from my headphones. Every beat felt like an earthquake against my body. If meditation is meant to bring peace through silence and stillness, I was achieving that while doing the opposite.
I broke out of my trance to find Michael and Sasha talking almost like regular people. I guess they were used to whatever we just smoked.
Violet was a different story. She looked just as trippy as me, but she had the ability to smile at the scenery beyond the car window. Her smile was a reminder that my heart was in her hands while she didn't even know. It would be better if she didn't. I considered myself unlovable, so what could she want with a piece of shit like me? So yeah, her smile brought me up then took me down.
I turned my attention back to the window and stayed that way until the car came to a stop. All four of us exited the car and looked up at a neon sign in the shape of a donut.
Costello's Gourmet Donuts was better than any of the chain places back in town; so better that some people didn't mind the long drive. We were firm believers of that mindset. "Hope you all don't plan on going to college," spoke Michael, "cuz I'm sure as hell ain't paying for you all."
"Mr Costello is gonna know what's up when he sees our eyes bloodshot. Put on your shades, guys." Sasha informed. Michael already had his John Lennon glasses tinted green, Sasha had her cat eye glasses, Violet pulled out a pair of red tinted hearts, and I put on some mirrored aviators.
The smell of fresh, warm dough invaded our noses and reminded us of the holiness of this place once we opened the door. No way anyone could smell the weed on us. It's hard to believe that the shop is solely family owned once you step in. Giuseppe Costello knew what he was doing when he renovated.
We stepped up to the counter and gazed at the bountiful feast separated from us by a small pane of glass. Then the munchies hit our stomach like a kick in the balls. Our attention towards the donuts forged by Jesus was disrupted with a "What can I do for ya?" Michael struggled to form words but knew exactly what we all wanted.
"Four dozens, please."
"God yes." Violet whispered.
The cashier dared to ask us what we wanted and was bombarded with "TWO OF THOSE" and "FOUR OF THOSE THINGS THAT LOOK LIKE TURDS" and "SOME OF THOSE CREAMPIED HOES PLEASE". Somehow he was able to fulfill our wishes and gave us our rectangular cornucopias. We all paid for our own except Sasha. She couldn't get a pack of gum after buying the weed.
We took our seats at a booth and opened the boxes. Before we could slaughter those fucking donuts the cashier came over with a Polaroid and asked "This your first time guys?" It sure as hell wasn't, but we said yes anyway.
Michael wrapped his arms around Sasha and bit her ear, causing her to shriek lightly. Violet laid down on my chest, put the tip of her middle finger to her cheek, and puckered up toward the camera. I held a peace sign with my palm towards me and opened my mouth to reveal my teeth and stick my tongue out. The cashier took the picture and left us to our food.
We somehow wolfed that shit down fast and savored it slowly, and I only stopped to plug in my earphones and play the Donuts album by J Dilla. Then we walked out the door, but not before we acknowledged the photo of four potheads next to another photo of some kid's birthday party.

I'm gonna end the chapter here. Just know that they go back to town to get some gas station booze.