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.