Summer of 1969

I just need one more hit, John thought as he held the bong in his hands. He looked around the dark, cramped basement, and saw Marco, who he thought was his friend, but who would later go on to become the hit-man who would eventually take out John. John would try to leave the gang to create a new life for himself. Marco was laughing like a college freshman who just scored his first case of beer. He was making a giant ass out of himself. John then looked at his girlfriend, Jennifer, who would go on to be a stripper who would have an affair with a mob boss, only to be struck down by a bullet to keep her quiet. John looked back down at the bong and took a hit. As he stumbled backwards in a stupor, he became extremely lightheaded and immediately passed out. The last conscious thought that passed through his mind was I'm so glad I passed up Woodstock for this.

John awoke several hours later. He stood up and his head immediately starting spinning. He stumbled to a couch that had obviously been used for sex not that long ago. He threw the bra and panties across the room and flopped down. He rubbed his temple to soothe the splitting pain in his head, and tried to remember why he woke up on a floor that reeked of piss and body odor. He bit by bit pieced the previous evening together.

Well, first I stopped by at that bar near Middlebury. Thank God they don't check IDs. Okay, that was at about 6:30. John glanced at his watch. His wrist wouldn't stay still and he thought he was having a bad reaction to something he took last night. After about a minute, he realized he was moving his arm back and forth. He snorted out loud when he realized this and almost immediately, some naked guy who must have been in his 30's sat up straight and shouted, "GODDAMMIT BECKY, I SAID TO MAKE SURE THE CARPET WAS PAISLEY GREEN. THIS IS OBVIOUSLY FOREST GREEN." and fell back asleep. At this point, John was biting his tongue and was crying silently from laughter. He calmed himself down and sat there in a drug-induced haze. He remembered eventually to check what time it was and saw it was 9:30 in the morning. Alright, I have 15 hours to fill. I probably spent a good 7 or 8 here, so I'll cut that down to 7 hours that I don't know where I was.

Hair matted, smelling slightly of piss, but mainly of marijuana, John made his way to the stairs, and climbed up on all fours. He reached the kitchen at the top, and dug in his pocket for some money. He left 14 dollars and 37 cents on the table. I sure hope this is Marco's place, he thought. He slipped on his shoes and left the door, slightly more sober than when he had woken up. John walked past the houses cramped next to each other in this slightly lower-middle class neighborhood and to the bus stop. A bus rolled to a stop before John, and although it wasn't a city bus, he got on away. At least I don't have to pay my fare., he thought as he sat down to some earthy-smelling girl. She didn't look that much older than he. He attempted to strike up a conversation, but the only thing that emitted from his mouth was a snore.