I didn't leave my apartment until 3:00. I was busy watching Springer and being depressed and lonely.
At 3:15, I discovered some delicious-looking cookies in the hallway of my building. GAHD they looked good. They were sitting on a table, on a nice festive plate. Ah, the holidays! Cookies abounding. I chose the one with the most chocolate chips.
At approximately 4:30, an Evergreen policeman was driving me to the hospital. My symptoms? Total confusion, loss of memory, inability to speak coherently, and extreme paranoia. Oh, and all my muscles tensed up and I was compulsively pulling on my lip.
IT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY TO GET ME STONED. Especially not now. And especially not on WASHINGTON WEED. That stuff is POTENT. Remember the last time I was stoned, over a year ago? Remember I told you about the giant centipede and my friends trying to kill me? Uh... YEAH. It's NOT funny to make me stoned.
Especially not being pregnant and all.
I didn't know, of course, that there was anything in these cookies...
I thought it was some tropical disease. I thought I was coming down with pregnancy-induced diabetes. I thought I was maybe going to have a convulsion. I thought maybe I was going to die. Somehow, I made it from the school library, where I was when I started feeling weird, to the school health center. From there, a policeman named Dapper, or Diaper, or Darvey, or something drove me to the emergency room. I guess I flipped out in the health center.
I don't remember what happened next. A lot of scary things. I got stuck inside my watch. I got stuck inside the pattern on the curtain. I forgot where I was. I got lost in a bathroom. I may have cried out that I'd wet myself, which I actually hadn't.
And the next thing I remember, there was a big, strong hand holding mine.
And Jake was laughing his ass off at me. "A BROWNIE???" he was saying. "A cookie," I told him.
Slowly, it registered that Jake was there... He was REALLY there. Not there, as in, the way the centipede had been there that one time...
Then I stated to remember. As I'd stated to feel funny, I'd been in the library reading this email from the lawyer-folks... Everything's over. Jake's got a suspended sentence. And there was NO no-contact order put in place. Hell yeah!!!
After thinking "hell yeah," I started thinking that everything was shaking. From there, everything is fuzzy until Jake showed up.
And laughed at me, and said something about "poetic justice." I think I told him something about hating poetry, but maybe I only thought I said that.
I tested positive for THC. They didn't tell me how much. IT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY TO POISON PEOPLE, DAMN IT ALL. Obviously, it really is a toxin to me. Most people just sit there and drool. I freak out, hallucinate (you should have seen the curtains in that emergency room! They were SOMETHING! First, they kept moving around, kind of dissipating and reappearing, like those little road-mirages on hot days... And the patterns on the fabric were swirling a little bit... ), and start believing that everybody's trying to kill me. This happened the last time, too. The only other good time I had halfway decent (that is, potent) weed, I flashed back to a former life and ended up crying in a Taco Bell.
...Which SOUNDs really funny... But it was a very frightening night. Especially being all alone...
...And then Jake showed... It sort of seemed like a miracle.... It definitely didn't seem real.
He's upstairs, showering. I'm downstairs, still having some serious problems with the passage of time. It seems like Jake's been showering forever.
At least we're together.
Uh... just FYI... I doubt this is going to be grade A writing... So uh... be gentle...
I said: "Um, Jake... this isn't exactly how I planned for this to be..."
We grinned at each other. He made fun of me for freaking out over being high. I said: "I TOLD you this is why it's not funny to blow smoke in my face!" He thought that was pretty funny too. I think there were a number of jokes at my expense. That was okay.
All's well that ends well.
I'm going to bed.
~Helena*