New Phase 7: Heavenly Cookies
Westlake Village, California
January 5, 2011
4;10 pm
Considering where Sy thinks he and his wife are from…” adding “...I mean in time, it could be heroin.”
Shrugging my shoulders. “Suppose it could be.”
“Would you do it?” Marsha asked negatively. “Ever use
?”
“No. Of course not!”
About three minutes later.
Opening the door. “Hi, Sy, come on in.”
Looking about. Noting the flipped configuration and difference in room sizes.
“Si thought he could use these, so he s ent me over with some cookies for Mitch.”
His leg stretched forward, still in the same position on the recliner.
“Here.” Sy said, handing me a small plastic bag with what appeared to be five medium sized cookies.
“Thanks’...” I said “...but why cookies?”
“Oh…” Sy said, with kind of a sly smile “...these are special, uh, medicated cookies.”
“ ‘Special ‘medicated’ cookies’?” I questioned.
“Yeah...” Sy said, adding emphatically “...do not eat more than one at a time.” Thinking a moment. “On second thought, better not eat more than half at a time.”
“Only half a cookie, huh?” Catching on. “These are, uh…”
Smiling. “Yes, they are.”
“Okay to kudunk?” I asked.
“Couldn’t hurt.” Sy said.
Know knowing what the cookies are made of. Jokingly, “In vodka?” I asked.
Shaking her head. “Vodka probably not such a good idea.”
Hearing the conversation, Marsha came from the kitchen.“Those cookies have ‘pot’ in them, don’t they?”
“Yes,” Taking the baggie from me, Sy handed it to Marsha. “It’s ‘really’ good shit...” she said “….so make sure that he…” nodding her head in my direction “...doesn’t take more than half a cookie whenever he’s ready. And if that doesn’t work, give him another quarter cookie in about an hour.”
Attempting to show – through all the pain – that I still had a sense of humor, “With ‘no’ kudunking in vodka!” I said.
Glancing at me, ignoring my stab at humor, to my surprise — because neither Marsha or myself were unfamiliar with maharajah, Marsha held the bag of five moderate sized cookies between her thumb and forefinger as though, rather than cookies, the bag contained a squirming mouse.
A bit of Marsha and my marijuana history:
In our younger years… Although in 1986 both in our mid-fifties, far from being kids, the first time Marsha and I participated in sharing a joint had been…
First things first… On 5/23/59
In the years of their marriage, Mitchell had seen his wife drunk only once, and that was on moonshine in Peoria, Illinois on 5/23/59 when she was cajoled into taking the first drink of the clear, near tasteless liquid – until it hit bottom – from a Mason Jar, handed her by a… Okay, let’s call it as it was and who it was. The Mason Jar was handed...actually forced upon Marsha by ‘Hugh Ivy’, a ‘hillbilly’ neighbor. The second and third sips of ‘Pappy Yoakum’s Kickapoo Joy Juice’ were all Marsha’s idea.
Forward to:
5/17/86
Elysium Fields
The first time we’d participated in sharing a joint had been…
“Hey!…” standing “...anyone want a ‘hit’?”
“A ‘hit’?” Marsha asked. “What kind of a ‘hit’?”
“ ‘Grass’...” Evie said, adding “...I’m ready!”
“ ‘Grass’?” Marsha questioned.
Slipping flip-flops onto his feet “ ‘Mary-Jane’?” Kenneth said.
“ ‘Mary-Jane’?” Marsha asked.
Reaching into his shorts pocket, removing the car keys, “Come on…” Morgan said. “...we can’t do it here.”
Taking Marsha by the hand Mitchell pulled her onto her feet.
I’d had Marijuana once before and was curious about how it would react on my wife.
“Where we going?”
“ To take a ‘hit’.” Morgan said.
“ ‘Take a hit’?”
“Marijuana!” Mitchell said.
“ ‘Marijuana’, Mitchell! I won’t smoke any marijuana!”
“Marsha…” taking her hand “...this is really good shit, and you won’t even know you’ve taken a hit.” Morgan said, placing his arm across her bare shoulders, steering her towards the dirt path entrance to the parking lot.
Walking behind. Though a bear of a man from the waist up, surprisingly— for a man his size, Morgan, the Vietnam veteran, had a rather small, tight ass and on the thin side, muscular thighs and calves.
Unlocking the driver side door of an older, four door ‘Cadillac’... with fabric bench seats…
Reaching inside Morgan popped the locks on the other three doors.
Waiting a moment for the pent up heat to dissipate.
“You…” gesturing for Marsha to take the center position on the front bench seat “...here, and …” gesturing for me to take the outer position. “And you three…” jerking his thumb towards the rear seat “...wherever.”
The four doors slamming shut, the windows never rolled down…
Opening the glove compartment, Morgan retrieved a small pouch and a pack of cigarette wrapping papers.
Deftly taking a measured pinch of marijuana and laying it into a partially folded cigarette paper, then expertly rolling it into a tightly packed thin cylinder, Morgan sealed it with his moist tongue.
Twisting both ends of the marijuana filled cylinder shut. Using a gold plated cigarette lighter, lightning it while drawing inward…
Holding the smoke for three seconds... exhaling, the sweet scent of burning marijuana infused with the car’s hot air causing an immediate contact high.
“Here…” Holding it between the tip of his thumb and forefinger, handing it to Marsha “… it's not a cigarette, so don’t treat it like a cigarette. Just take a small, deep draw and hold it in for as long as you can.”
Doing as instructed… Marsha took a small but deep drag holding the smoke in for possibly two second…
Then coughing and gagging the smoke erupting from her mouth, “ ‘ear,” she handed the joint to me and I took a larger, deeper draw and handed it over the seat to Evie, who, doing the same gave it to Ken, who, doing the same, gave it to Sandy, who, doing the same then handed it over the seat back to Morgan.
Feeling noting, yet…
‘Thinking’ she was feeling nothing yet, shaking her head negatively on the second round, I took it directly from Morgan’s fingers, drew and passed it backward… By the time it reached Sandy, having to hold the ‘roach’ between her fingernails, Sandy inhaled the last of the smoke.
Sitting a short while in the enclosed Cadillac breathing the marijuana — ‘contact high’ infused air, looking to my right I did notice that there was not so much as the merest fraction of space between the naked outer thighs of my wife and the naked outer thigh of Morgan, yet there was at least two inches of space between my thigh and Marsha’s.
On purpose, I thought, or just the way they were sitting?
Although, really, at that time and stage of our marriage I didn’t care because what I ‘really’ wanted to do was to fuck Sandy, and if Morgan wanted to fuck my wife, well, that was up to her.
“Marcie…” I asked “...you feeling anything?”
“No…” giggling, very loudly giggling “...ain’t feelin’ nothin’!”
Yeah!
Westlake Village, California
January 5, 2011
4;21 PM
Many years ago, in my ‘Elysium’ pefriod I enjoyed occasionally smoking a ‘joint’ – or actually more like usually ‘sharing’ a “joint” – and at that time, in those earlier years, I did enjoy the effect of marijuana much more than alcohol. But now, at this time, I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d had any… marijuana, that is, not alcohol.
The pain in my knee rather intense, what I really wanted was a second Vicodine, but Marsha wouldn’t allow it for another hour and actually not too anxious to eat a marijuana laced cookie on top of the first Vicodine, I waited a bit longer for the pill to kick in, but when it seemingly didn’t and, seeing as I had to go to the bathroom anyway; painfully pulling myself off the recliner, with the help of a cane, I went to the bathroom — as I didn’t have to sit at this time, and as having to bend my knee or keep it stiffly held outward in order to sit extremely painful, attempting to pee while balancing myself on one leg, the process of getting it ‘all’ into the bowl rather problematic. Finished with minimum dribble, then hobbling into the kitchen. “Where’s the cookies?” I asked Marsha
Not understanding why, I could see she was not too happy about the marijuana, “Right there,” she said, pointing to the counter.
“Why are you so unhappy about the pot? I know It’s been years… At least for me…”
She’d been stirring a pot of mashed potatoes. “Me, too…” Marsha said, removing the pot from the stove “… not since Elysium, but marijuana reminds me of my really bad time… And that time when I told you what I ‘thought’ I ‘really thought of you then. You know…”
“When you said you hated me and couldn’t stand it when I even touched you, and that you just wanted to be with Stan Jacobson?”
“Yes...” Marsha said sadly, handing me the plastic bag.
“Thanks.” Breaking one in half, chewing slowly, tasting the white chocolate and crushed macadamia nuts in an otherwise rather dry, tasteless cookie, I swallowed…
Swallowing the first half of the half of my rather dry, tasteless pot laced cookie, thinking that I’d like to drink something with it, and, as apparently vodka was out of the question, I thought of milk — you know, a milk and cookies kind’a thing – but maybe it was my Hebrew heritage, you know, the dietary thing of not mixing dairy with meat products. But of course, ‘yes’, I am very well aware that marijuana is more a hemp product than a meat product but, somehow, the thought of milk – actually “Lucerne reduced fat Milk with 38% less fat than whole milk with only 2% fat” – somehow, the thought of milk and Marijuana not setting well in the mind of my stomach, I settled for what has always been one of my favorite beverages: a glass of ice-cold seltzer water.
“Seltzer water!” I’ve a story to tell you about seltzer water that I’ll get back to in a minute.
For me, pot is not like booze. Booze I can feel right away, or nearly right away. Anyway, I feel booze right away but pot is more subtle, sometimes taking ….?
In the meantime: Well remembering that it takes a bit of time before pot begins to work on me, I thought that, so long as I was standing — albeit painfully standing — and as I hadn’t checked my computer for a while, as I…”
Setting the table. “You need help?” Marsha asked.
In my advanced helplessness, feeling older than I really was, but not wanting to appear to be as old as I really was, or, for that matter, as helpless as I really was, doing the ‘macho’ thing. “No..” I said “...let me try on my own.”
As I hobbled from the kitchen to my desk, ‘oh, yes!’ I did feel pain, but the white chocolate and crushed macadamia nut maharajah laced half cookie doing it’s job, I really didn’t care.
Nest: New Phase 8: A 2 cent Plain
