Abril 28, 2004
I Teefed Dad's Weed
I stole weed from my Dad the other night. I've been living with him for several weeks following the demise of my relationship, and the other night I stole drugs from him. I knew he had dope because I gave it to him for Christmas. He only had a little bit left and I took it all, the rest of it. For a relatively conservative older man he really plowed through the bag. I mean, he must be smoking at least a joint a week, although there was one already rolled in his secret box where he keeps his drugs, and it was a fatty -- so maybe it's a joint every week and a half. Either way, he's been pretty vocal with me about my drug use, which reeks to me of hypocrisy, even though as I daily user I can quickly estimate that I smoke at least ten times as much as he does.
It was strange the other night because he found a joint in the basement -- the night after I smoked the rest of his weed. I mean, I know I smoked his weed that night, so it must have been another joint that I was unaware of. But he returned it to me. He just left me a note that said: "I found this in the basement." I wasn't sure what he was feeling when he found it or when he wrote the note because all he said was "I found this in the basement" So I wrote back three or four different notes of my own, each one confessing my theft of his chronic..."Dear dad, technically this is yours because I stole the rest of your dope last night, love your son." But they all sounded wicked cheeky and whatnot, so in the end I just threw away his note and smoked the joint, and we haven't spoken about it since.
Posted by King at Abril 28, 2004 04:26 PM
You know you guys are a sitcom and/or buddy cop flick waiting to happen. Father and son detective agency, anyone?
That is a great story Andy. My step brother and step father ocassionaly smoke joints together. Its kind of weird watching them, it totally pisses my mom off 'cause she thinks its pretty low class of my step father to be smoking with his son but I think its kind of cool.
It's weird hey? Even my pot-smoking dad thinks it's pretty low class that my aunt's boyfriend smokes so much pot. But that's also contextual. The boyfriend is a man in his late fifties, I think, and the very first time he met the family, on Christmas Eve a couple of years ago, he showed up blazed and then kept ducking out to get more high. I guess, as they say, there is a time and a place, and maybe that wasn't the best time or place, but I think it also says something about how my dad feels about him in general. Like, if they hit it off big time, would it matter that he was stoned out of his mind?
Actually though, come to think of it, I think my dad was kind of stressed that Christmas cause I can remember that him yelling at me that night to stop staring at him. He told me it was "tremendously off-putting." I couldn't look him in the eye for about a month afterthat.
I always felt sort of shitty for kids who had to smoke weed with their parents. When I was a teen it was all about smoking weed AT your parents. I'm pretty sure my mom still blazes enough ish for the both of us but when I was thirteen through sixteen I smoked weed at my mom almost every day. Every kid deserves to smoke weed at their parents and it's such a shitty thing when "with-it" dad throws a King Crimson record on and pulls out a hoolie, thus depriving his teen kid of a prime way to get back at him for not extending their curfew past 11.15 (sharp!). My mom caught me breaking up a half-ounce of weed when I was 15. It was so pungent that the raw weed made the whole top floor of the house smell like smoked weed. To be honest I was kind of frustrated when my mom said that she didn't really give a shit and then offered to buy me and my three friends a pizza. But that's sort of what being a shitty teen is all about I guess.
If my dad said that staring at him was "tremendously off-putting" (it's such an articulate thing to yell at a child), I think I would probably still be smoking weed at him. I never really have been able to look my dad in the eye though, only transmute my oedipal terror into an irrationally subservient relationship with every British person I meet.
I don't think that's oedipal, Discourse. I can't look your dad in the eye either.