The Night before Christmas, and all through the house, nothing was stirring, not even my
parents...
My parents still don't know I
smoke, so I have to wait till they're in bed before I can go out to
waft away.
They'd just come home from
midnight mass, and I was watching '
A Nightmare Before Christmas' with a
pre-rolled joint in my pocket, itching to get out.
I walked outside, carefully closing the door behind me, not making a sound. I sat on the wet
ground, with my back against the wall, soaking up the water into me
pants! i pulled the joint out of my pocket and
sparked it up.
Staring up into the
boundless stars, I let the cool breeze wash over my skin. The
weed was already working on my brain, I could feel every hair on every inch of my body alert to the
breeze. The
moon, a clear semi-circle, floating through a clear inky curtain, millions of indistinct pricks of light, rigid behind wisps of cloud.. a constant against the
ever changing faces of the clouds. I gazed up into the untold space of the
galaxy, wishing I was out there with
Ford Prefect and
Zaphod Beeblebrox, walking the surface of other worlds and gazing into the faces of
distant stars..
I felt the
roach burn under my fingers. Reaching down I stubbed it out on the
cold damp stone. Standing up and reaching for the
doorhandle, I gazed up one last time, for one last look. One last wish.
Happy Christmas, I wished the stars, and walked back into the house. They twinkled on regardless.