Fucking Under the Influence: Part 2

Part 1: Fucking Under the Influence  I keep inhaling the diminishing joint as his eyes move around the room frantically. “Ashtray,” I remind him, holding the quarter-inch of stacked ember dust to his face. He carries me closer to the desk, where I drop the J onto an overflowing receptacle of blunt roaches and gray ash.…

Fucking Under the Influence

“You’ve come a long way,” I joke glancing around the basement. “This one is bigger.” Half of the space is a graveyard of bicycles and parts.  The other half is a makeshift bedroom composing of several mostly deflated air mattresses piled on each other and a couple of cheap plastic drawers overflowing with black shirts.…