Job's house was covered in moss, ontop of a hill, surrounded by trees giving us the impression that we could smoke weed without closing the blinds in the living room and be relatively safe. Now that I'm older I know that we were safe even back then. Funny how back then we thought cops were working around the clock to hunt kids like us down when we were the last of their worries.
But back then we believed it. We were just in our own bubbles, couldn't imagine that they were dealing with dying people and breaking up fights at the
homeless
encampments down by Viktoria Park. Simpler times. Scary but fun. I sometimes thought bluesuits would kick down our door and confiscate all our drugs. I imagined how I'd tell my parents. Imagined my dad's face as he heard the news.
Getting caught with the kind of
drugs
we were using wouldn't be too bad for my morale. I wouldn't mind going to jail for them. The worst thing was just the going to jail part. I didn't want to go to jail and have to tell my parents that this was how I was spending my time after college They were funding my lifestyle afterall. What kind of lifestyle was this?
I remember one time going to Job's house, where I had half a pound of
shrooms
there. The whole time I was paranoid that there would be a bit missing. Nibbles here and there. What could I do? Job liked drugs and I was using his house as a stash.
Well it did turn out that I should've been paranoid. But not for the drugs. Something else. I walked in and saw Job on the couch with that guy from my improv class.
