Say What?

“Okay,” Morris said, “So I was taking a little siesta before Pembry’s class, under the bleachers, and the Graces come along, then they, well, they sort of shrunk Leonard Carswell.”

“That guy is such a turbo douche,” Tom commented.

“Did you hear what I just said? They shrunk him!” repeated Morris.

Tom screwed up his face, “What?”

“No, it’s true,” he protested, “I swear.”

Tom’s phone made a sound. Holding his left hand up, he pulled out his cell with his right, “It’s Sly, he’s under the bleachers waiting for us,” he said.

“Forget about him for the moment, they shrunk Len down because of the rumor going around about him and Susannah Caldwell,” he explained.

Tom snickered, “I heard she blew him.”

“They shrunk him to this big,” he said, demonstrating the size using his thumb and forefinger, “And then she fucking ate him.”

Tom laughed, “Dude you are tripping balls!”

“And I think they saw me see them do it, that’s why Kimber was being all nice and weird and shit,” he added.

“You must be really high right now man, because you are hilarious,” chortled Tom, shaking his head.

Morris frowned. He knew he was high, but he was pretty sure of what he saw, well maybe. Shaking his own head, he now wasn’t as sure as he thought he was a moment ago.

“People can’t just shrink other people dude, that’s fucking awesome, tell me you got some of that blunt left, please, I want to take the same trip,” Tom said, big grin on his face.

Morris was confused, trying to recall the details of what he saw through the narcotic induced haze fogging his brain. Tom was right, it did sound crazy, like some paranoid hallucination. He started to laugh. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the remaining half of the joint he had been smoking and handed it to Tom.

“Come on,” Tom said, “Let’s meet up with Sly,” he urged.

Morris nodded slowly, it had to be the weed. He felt kind of stupid now thinking back, shrinking somebody that was dumb. He continued to chuckle to himself sporadically as they made their way around to the bleachers by the sports field. The third member of their group, Sylvester Selwynn, Sly, was there, an angry expression on his handsome face. Between Morris and Tom in height, his dark hair swept back, dressed in jeans and a shirt, hands on hips.

“What the hell? I been waiting here like ten minutes,” he complained, irritation dancing in his blue eyes.

“You will never believe what happened, Kimber St. John came up on Jabberwocky here and just rubs his face,“ Tom said, demonstrating by doing the same thing to Sly.

Sly pushed Tom’s hand away, “Fuck off,” he scoffed. “Why would one of the Graces do that, eh?”

Tom spread his hands, “And she says, ‘You’re Morris, right?’ and he’s just like gah, can’t talk or make an intelligent noise, just standing there stupefied,” he explained.

“Kimber St. John?” Sly asked, shaking his head, “No way, not a chance in hell, not buying that bullshit,” he stated, dubious.

“Dude, like I was standing right there, saw it with my own eyes!” avowed Tom, “My lips to god’s ears.”

Sly snorted. Looking at Morris, “You got that spliff?” he asked.

Morris shook his head.

“He smoked like half, maybe more than half during block break,” Tom said, producing the unburned portion of the joint.

Sly frowned and shot a Morris a cold look. “Spark it,” he said.

Tom put the remains of the roach in his mouth and lit it, taking a couple of puffs on it before passing it to Sly. “Fuck this is good shit,” he said without letting any of the smoke out his lungs.

Sly took the joint between thumb and forefinger brought it close to his mouth, taking a couple of hoots before offering it to Morris. Lost in his own world, Morris waved it off. Tom let out a cloud of smoke and took the smoldering nub back from sly, sucking in a quick lungful.

“That’s not the best part, go on, tell him,” encouraged Tom, handing the tiny roach back to Sly, holding his breath while he talked.

“No, it’s stupid,” Morris said abashedly.

Sly took the last hit of the joint before putting the little piece of resin laden paper into his mouth and eating it. “What?”

Morris shook his head.

Tom breathed out, laughing, but coughing in the process. “No he says Susannah shrank Leonard ‘fuckstick’ Carswell and ate him.”

Tom looked at Morris and started laughing, breaking into a hacking fit of his own. “Ate him?” he guffawed.

Morris frowned. “Swallowed him,” it did sound ridiculous even coming from his own mouth. Shaking his head, “I thought she did,” he replied weakly, embarrassed.

“According to the rumor mill, she certainly swallowed something of his on the weekend,” said Sly, big grin on his face, clapping Morris on the shoulder. “I’d certainly let her swallow me,” he added, clutching at his groin with his free hand.

Tom laughed, snorting in the process, “Me too,” he said.

“In your case, hopefully she doesn’t choke on small bones,” chortled Sly.

“Come on guys,” pleaded Morris.

Both Tom and Sly surrendered to a case of the giggles as the trio moved back toward the school. Once inside. Morris’s feeling foolishness all but forgotten, the early bell rang signifying the end of lunch. Parting ways with his friends, he went to his locker and after a moment of trying to remember his combination and three unsuccessful attempts, he was finally able to open it. Standing there, he had the strange prickly sensation on the back of his neck that he was being watched. Turning slowly to his left and looking casually over his shoulder, almost nonchalant seeming, he espied the sexy brunette Elisha standing several lockers down, looking directly at him. The next buzzer rang, sending frenzied students scurrying in many directions, but not Elisha, she just stayed where she was, watching him, amused expression on her pretty face. Clearing his throat, he grabbed his books and closed his locker before turning and walking away from the girl. After only maybe a dozen paces, he could hear the sound of shoes clicking off of the floor as she started walking behind him. Was he being paranoid? The footfalls were drawing closer. He swallowed hard. Risking a look back over his shoulder, instead of Elisha Harrow, he saw Ms. MacKenzie the socials teacher walking behind him, eyes down on a paper she held in her hand, it was her shoes he heard clicking. He laughed silently to himself. Purple Kush is awesome he thought, slipping into Ms. Mackenzie’s class just ahead of the teacher.