I’ve been smoking way too much dope lately.

I remember thinking this to myself as I rolled a joint.

It had been forever since I’d been to school. I’d given it up because Principal Kelter wouldn’t get off my back. Stupid bitch. I was averaging B+ grades but because she catches me with my shirt un-tucked every now and then I get after-school detentions? Fuck her and fuck that place. I didn’t have to put up with that shit.

My parents had just about given up on me. I’d moved out of my Dad’s and was living with my mother. This was because things with Dad had gotten too hard. He didn’t approve of me leaving school, and once I did, he was always on my case about getting a job.

Getting a job? I told him over and over that I wanted to be a writer. The most productive thing to do was to stay at home and write. He never bought that answer.

“A writer?” He’d always moan. “Why the fuck would you do that. Get a REAL job.”

My father never understood me.

My mother was something different altogether. She didn’t understand anything. Sometimes I doubted whether she even knew I was living with her. Her problem was she couldn’t cope after Dad left. She started taking anti-depressants. Lots of them. It didn’t take long before she became a mindless drone. Actually, pretty funny that I made it to a place like this before her. Well, not so much funny I guess.

My Aunt, Mum’s sister, was living with us. She never bothered me. She had her hands full with my mum. I was just left to my own devices.

Anyway, I’d rolled the joint. Leaning back in my chair outside, I started smoking it, my third for the day. As I smoked I noticed the clouds above me, forming the most incredible shapes. Toke after toke of the joint and I started thinking about what all this stuff must be doing to my brain, and I laughed.

I can’t explain why I found, and still find my own self-destruction funny. I just do.

I finished the joint and I was baked. Easing back in my chair I just stared for what seemed like forever. Don’t know what I was staring at, my back yard was just a small concrete area, not much to see. But still, I stared.

My concentration was broken by a phone call. Slowly, slowly I went inside and answered the phone. It was my friend Christian.

“Hey man, what are you up to?” he asked.

“Nothing really. Just bummin’.” I struggled to reply.

“Yeah.” He paused. “You stoned?”

“Uh-huh.” I had nothing more to say. Slowly, slowly my brain ticked over. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Dude, it’s Saturday.” He laughed. “You ARE stoned.”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I waited for him to speak.

“So Corey, can I come over? I’ll bring some beer.” He finally broke the silence.

Christian’s offer was one that I knew went two ways. He’d bring beer for us and I’d have to share my pot. I didn’t care. Company would be a nice change, I thought.

So I told him to come around and hung up. Knowing I’d have to wait about an hour for him to arrive, I put on a CD and laid down on the couch in the lounge room to listen to it.

From my mum’s room I could hear her screaming and throwing stuff around. I could also hear my Aunt trying to calm her. Prying myself from the couch, I went to the stereo and turned the CD player up, drowning out my mother’s noise.

About an hour later I was woken up by my Aunt. She prodded and pushed until I told her to fuck off. To that she just said “You have a visitor” and walked off.

Groggily I opened my eyes. I was still very stoned. Christian was standing ahead, looking at me.

“Hey man.” He was holding a slab of Carlton Draught. “Let’s get pissed.”

And we did. We went outside and played all sorts of drinking games while we listened to “The Bloodhound Gang”. The more pissed we got, the more abstract our conversations became. I remember one clearly.

Christian was talking. “So if fate exists, and all our lives are predetermined, then theoretically we don’t exist.”

“How do you mean?” I drunkenly asked him, already grinning in anticipation of his theory.

“Well, if everything we do is predetermined by destiny, then we don’t have any control over our own lives. We don’t partake in our own existence, thus we don’t exist. We THINK we exist, but we are programmed to think that, probably by the same thing that programs fate.”

I mulled over his theory, trying to think of a coherent response. After minutes of trying I gave up and simply said “I don’t believe in fate.”

“Yeah, neither do I. But it’s fun to think about!” Christian laughed and tilted his beer bottle towards mine in recognition. We both then sat silent for a while. Eventually Christian broke the silence.

“Let’s have some pot.”

It took me a while to process his suggestion. I was fucked.

“Okay” I finally said. “But we’ll just use my bong; I can’t be fucked rolling a J.”

“No probs.” He grinned. I could tell he had been anticipating this. This is why he was here.

Slowly, slowly I went to my bedroom, got my bag of pot, got my bong and went outside. Christian wasn’t there. Too lazy to look for him, I sat down. I packed a cone and smoked it. I had a couple more. There was still no sign of Christian.

I had a kick-in cigarette and was officially toast. I could barely see, could barely move. All the beer bottles that had been on our table outside were gone. I was too wasted to be confused. I started staring at the clouds, again. Totally enthralled by them, I was startled when I heard Christian’s voice.

“Oy, watcha doin’?” He asked, standing at the back door.

I looked at him. “Where were you?”

“I was just at the toilet man.” He explained. I didn’t bother to inquire why I hadn’t heard the toilet flush.

“Do you want a cone?” I offered.

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m pretty pissed.” He replied.

Once again we sat in silence. Not bored, just fucked. After a while I suggested that we get on the internet to check if any of our mates were on AIM (Aol Instant Messenger).

Slowly, slowly we went to my room. I turned on the computer and logged on to the net. Sitting behind me on the foot of my bed was Christian.

“Anyone online?” he asked.

“I’m just logging on now” I replied.

I logged on. One buddy online. Chr1st1An. Christian’s username.

I turned to Christian. “Looks like one of your brothers is using your username” I said.

Seconds later I realised that Christian had no brothers, or sisters. Then I remembered that his parents hated computers. The only reason they had one was so that Christian could do homework assignments on it. They never used it.

Obviously someone had hacked in and was using Christian’s username. But who? I wondered.

I decided to find out.

COZBANG: Hello.
Chr1st1An: Heya.

Christian’s trademark net response. This person knew Christian well.

COZBANG: Christian?
Chr1st1An: Yeah…
COZBANG: Christian Collins?
Chr1st1an: Yah… are you all right Cozza?

This time I wasn’t too fucked to be confused. I had no idea what was going on. I turned to Christian. He was just smiling at me, eerily. I turned back to the computer, freaked out.

COZBANG: Shouldn’t you be at school?

I recycled my question from earlier.

Chr1st1An: Dude, it’s Sunday.

Sunday? Speaking over my shoulder to Christian, I said “Man, this is fucked up.” No response. I said it again. “Man, this is fucked up.” Still no response. I turned around quickly to find Christian… gone? No one was there. I was all alone. I turned back to the computer, my mind racing. I had a new message.

Chr1st1An: Hello? You there?

Totally confused, I started to panic. I leapt out of my computer chair and backed away from the computer. All of a sudden, a strange feeling of dizziness came over me. I felt like I was spinning, but I was sure I wasn’t moving. It went on and on and I started wishing that I hadn’t had that last cone. Trying to escape the spinning sensation, I closed my syes. It didn’t help. The spinning got faster and faster. My eyes closed and losing control I span and became frightened and span and was lost and span and was wishing I’d never heard the word “Marijuana” and span and stopped.

For a moment I thought it was too good to be true. I kept my eyes closed and stayed perfectly still, afraid even the tiniest of movements could send me spinning again. But after a while, I felt safe. I opened my eyes and found myself outside, sitting in my chair at the table, a rolled joint in front of me. I stared at it for ages and wondered what the fuck had just happened.

The confusion started to scare me. I needed to calm myself, so I smoked the joint.

Then, going over what had happened, pondering it and killing my brain doing so, I came to a conclusion. I was too fucked to care.

The latest joint now fully kicking in, I leant back in my chair and stared at the clouds. They were forming the most incredible shapes. That’s about all I remember.

Wait. How did I get here?