Have You Been Smoking?

We were laughing like teenagers looking at tits for the first time or something, stupid little giggles; laughing at our laughter. Alex and I never smoked pot at work, but it was Friday and the office was slow and hollow. A lot of people had left early and a few others, like us, had time to spare. The joint went out and when we walked back inside, my boss was staring right at me. He asked if I could sit in on a meeting, he was leaving early. I cleared my throat. “I just have a few other important, um, issues to take care of today. Before...the day ends.”

“Excuse me?” he asked. “We’re going to give them the time they need.”

“The time they deserve,” piped in Mr. Rigley. The bastard. The phonie. He had dollar signs in his eyes and his breath was that of Satan himself. That was the only reason I didn't mind. The suits would never buy from a shit-breathed greaseball like Rigley. Not with that breath.

“You're right,” I concurred. “I'll be right in.”

I ran to the bathroom and washed my hands. It wasn't working. Then I got an idea. I ran to the secretary's desk in front of the building. “Cigarette,” I demanded. “And a match or a, or a light. C’mon.” I was panting like a bulldog. I ran outside and lit the cigarette and let the smell consume my outfit, my fingers, my breath. I wasn't inhaling but on my last fake drag I ended up leaking some of that poison into my lungs. Running back inside, I swayed to the right and nearly fell into a bush. I was lightheaded and dizzy. When I handed the lighter back to the secretary she asked, “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I said, looking a few inches to her side. “How the hell do you smoke these things?”

The office seemed so far now that I couldn't run. I almost didn't make it upstairs. Before entering, I asked Alex, “Can you smell the pot?”

“No, but here,” he spritzed me with cologne. “This stuff is strong.” He started sniffing, “Have you been smoking cigarettes?”

“It's a long story.”

From his office, Rigley yelled, “Beaumont! You're wasting our time!”

I ran across the room and fell face down outside of his office, inches from the finish line. I couldn't get up. Rigley walked up to me and said, “Have you been smoking cigarettes, Beaumont?” And I told him, “Yes, sorry sir, blowing off some steam before the meeting.” He shook his head.

“That's a bad habit, Beaumont.” He stuck out his hand to help me up. Then he said, “Try pot.”