"A picture is worth a thousand words... Which is basically 3 somewhat lengthy paragraphs. =)"
-Alita99
|
| To Thrud On The Bud (Fixed Text Repost) | | | Author: | | | IP: | 65.67.22XXXX | | Date: | 11/13/03 08:11 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 3, Min: 3
Lifetime Rating for The Wise One: 3.6667 |  | Part 1: Flashback to the “Good Old Days”
Hector was eighteen. He was blatantly, a white boy, with his sandy hair color and pale skin. You might say his life was about to take him from the boiling pot to the inner depths of the furnace. His peers, all throughout his high school years, had always harassed him so naturally he only expected the situation to degenerate as he entered his freshman year of college.
Maybe it was his thick-framed glasses, or the way his upper lip seemed to pucker up exceedingly higher than his lower one. The fact that he was about the only guy with a pale white skin tone, probably in all of Florida might have something to do with it. I’m sure the lengthy nose, pimpled on its tip, and the excessive freckles didn’t help much either…
He spent the majority of his free junior high through high school days, “cooked up” in his house, head glued to some intricate video game, letting his body deteriorate physically and his mind socially. His features were so gaunt they became a hideous enigma to behold. His parents would strive in vain to contrive a way to break the sinister hold video games maintained over his being.
They made him join the basketball team his junior year. The errors of this were soon discovered, however, when he dislocated his elbow on account of a pass being thrown to him too fast during his second day of practice. Then, a less physical sport was tried. Hector joined the golf team. It was pathetic; he had no idea what he was doing. It was implausible how brainwashed he had become. He would daydream off into space, partially hear the coach mutter some instructions to him and answer with an intelligent “what.” He had to be told how to hold the golf club for all shooting distances in a step-by-step sequence.
The torment was soon ended, however, when a stray golf ball struck him in the eye, breaking his glasses, lodging glass in his skin in the process, leaving him blind in one eye for the next few days. Some of the glass had to be surgically removed and wounds patched up with stitches. He was lucky to maintain his eye. After this, his parents pretty much gave up, nothing they had tried seemed to be suffice. They left him to be caught up and consumed in a maze of video game fantasy, letting the reality of the real world slip further and further away from him by the day.
Hector did graduate a salutatorian of his graduating class do to his vast academical intelligence. Though, what good this did him he didn’t know. Being academically gifted didn’t win him friends it just isolated him from the mass of “cool” people even more. Trying to be optimistic about his life, he looked into the future with hope and expectation of becoming an accepted member of the college environment he was about to enter.
Part 2: One Demon Diminishes and A New One Emerges
Hector started college with high expectations. He intended to garble the minds of his peers with a gloating attitude of pride and give them a false impression of him. He became a critique constantly giving them a hard time in class and pointing out their many academical mistakes. He started class debates where he would have a logical counter for everything they said and embarrass them while receiving respect from teachers. He soon discovered this was the wrong way to be cool, however. I mean what would your common reaction be if some thick glasses lenses geek tried to demoralize your self esteem by contradicting every word you said with some nerdy come back. Well, I’m sure you’d do what most of them did and retaliate by knocking the shit out of him. After awhile Hector caught on and realized a less self-harming approach would be best.
He kind of laid low and avoided the “cool” people that he wouldn’t seem to accept him into their group. He found a group of outsiders who shared his interest in nerdy things such as video games and the news. He even became brave and started flirting with girls. This, he soon found out was a very faulty move on his part. He asked three girls out… One being nice gave him a kind “no” and quit speaking with him. Another, just slapped the fuck out of him. This decorated the side of his face with a big red spot to wear around the remainder of the day, letting everyone know what a fucking pussy he was. The third, well we won’t even go there… After this, matters just worsened. Out of fear of similar happenings, he quit talking to girls completely. Not associating with girls soon caused him to get the label of a “fag.” At this point he actually considered suicide, but still being sane he dismissed this thought abruptly.
The thought that this was happening was implausible. He didn’t have a clue how to deal with it. He’d had social problems all his life but never like this. Now he missed more than ever the sanctuary of video games, his parents had forced him to leave behind, by not allowing him to put his computer in the dorm room. Depression kicked in and he became vulnerable to peer pressure. Three of the “cool” guys started hanging out with him. They gave him rides in their pimping vehicles, and started treating him like one of them. After this, he could walk the halls with additional pride and get greeted with a friendly “sup Hector” rather than a violent shove into the wall and profanities. Gradually girls started talking to him. It was just a sweet “hi Hector,” but he viewed as a start in the climb to social success. All good things come to an end, however.
The motives of his three benefactors soon became clear after being incoherent for so long. One day one of them found Hector as he lounged around in the lobby being bored and slapped him on the back casually to gain his scrutiny. Then retorted casually, “Come on Hector lets go have some fun.” Hector had no idea what this was all about, but he was always accustomed to having all the fun he could have. Once they had him isolated in the car, he was vulnerable to any evil blight that they might choose to throw his way.
The blight they had in store for Hector today was marijuana. The car pulled into to a random parking space somewhere in back of a convenient store lot out in the middle of nowhere away from the campus. The mood was completely silent other than the low juvenile murmurings exchanged between the three. But the static mood was soon disrupted when one of the three exclaimed “What are we waiting for give him a hit already!”
“Shut the fuck up Mark,” another one hissed in a low voice.”
“Why don’t you just hang a sign up on the car, saying Do Not Disturb, people are getting stoned in here,” added the last. Hector didn’t know what was going on, he had no idea what was meant by “give him a hit.” He just shook his head in confusion and stuttered, “You gona tell me what’s goin on guys?”
“The peace pipes what’s goin on buddy,” came Mark’s answer. He then held up a maroon pipe with chunks of what appeared to be ground up grass packed firmly in the bowl. “Oh my god! Look at the shit he brought,” Lance.
“God damn you Mark that shit will kill the poor kid its laced to hell and back.”
“He’s gotta learn to be a man sometimes.”
“Dude I’m getting the hell outta here, I won't be no part of this bull shit.”
“Come on Derrick don’t be a fucking pussy.”
“Alright I’ll stay if Lance does.”
“Then it’s settled lets get this shit over with.”
All this time, Hector is slumped over in his seat with a garbled look on his face. Then, his conscience goes crazy and he starts to get a lot of qualms. I mean all his life he’s been accustomed to doing what’s morally correct. His mind is almost completely absent of such immoral thoughts as of smoking weed. Conflicting thoughts shatter the peace of his brain, as the climatic, inner battle of good vs. evil gets underway. In the end curiosity and peer pressure wins over sanity and morality. Hector then interrupts the temporary silence, “I’ll do it guys.”
“Hell yeah! That’s what we like to hear,” Mark exclaims.
“You sure you know what your doing?” Derrick inquires, still worried.
“I hope I do…”
The pipe and a lighter are passed Hector’s way. He flicks the lighter a few times. Not even a spark. “Put some god damn elbow grease behind it boy,” Mark grimaces, snatching the lighter away and lighting it with one smooth stroke of the thumb. He then lets the flame rest directly on the contents of the bowl. “Inhale, Inhale!”
“Put your thumb on the little the hole to close in the air flow you dumb ass. The one on the side of the bowl.”
“My bad.”
“There you go, now inhale the fuck out of it.”
“COUGH, COUGH, COUGH, GULP, GASP, AHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhh WOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
“Holy shit! Look at his face. That was some hilarious shit. Take another hit this time inhale that bitch don’t blow out any smoke, you gotta get the full effect.”
Approximately forty-five min. later, four stoned dumb asses make their way back to the dorms. It’s a dramatic scene for all four as Lance drives at a crawling speed of fifteen-twenty mph to prevent accident. Everyone holds their breath and pray as he finally parks reasonably straight. Everyone exits the car with the silliest grins you ever seen. Hector’s body is in overdrive, which soon becomes apparent as he tears toward the dorm entrance, not noticing or even caring about the curb. He trips and rolls over twice skinning his arms in multiple places before managing to land on his feet and continue on unaware of the delay. The others manage to forcefully sustain him and get carry him to his room chunking him on the bed without anyone important noticing his condition.
Hector falls into a half sleeping daze of unawareness to the world. The sinister demon then kicks in… His mind leaves all traces of logic and sanity behind, spinning him around in a dream world of delusional void. He becomes haunted with horrific images of relatives being slaughtered in the most gruesome ways imaginable. A horde of images of all sorts hovers his mind in a psychotic chaos. Then all this dissipates and all he becomes aware of is the horrible burning fireball inside the core of his chest. He gasps for air but none can be obtained. Then, his mind becomes crystal clear, logic sets in and as his breaths shorten and shorten he becomes aware of the true folly of what he just did. What a fool he had been, he should of known this would happen due to his extreme asthma condition. Would he even wake up in the morning? No, he thought and he didn’t.
It’s a fact that no one has ever died of marijuana over dose, which makes this story completely fictional. However, I feel that it could happen if it is consumed by someone young enough or with a very weak immune system. I’ve smoked it myself and probably will end up doing it again at some point in my life, but I still have a haunting feeling that an overdose will actually kill someone with a very weak immune system, sometime in the near future no matter what medical researchers say. I just thought it would make a funny story… |
|
|
|
Home
Forum
Starcraft Tournaments
