Those were the good old days, when my Mom and Dad stayed down the city, where we lived and left me the key to the downstairs converted basement apartment, in the house we owned in Brewster, our country home. Yea, those were good days. I had a bunch of different friends that I would let stay and party at my place. I'd wake up in the morning and the place was always clean. The female section of our group, which included girls about the same age as my sister, but younger than me, showed their thanks by keeping it that way, so they were welcome anytime. It was a small tight group of young adults and teenagers and we all looked out for each other while experimenting with various drugs that were popular at the time. We played music and all enjoyed each others company. We were a happy family of friends. But I was hated by the parents of the girls in our group. You couldn't blame them, after all we were 20 and 21, my best friend Bob and I. These girls were all still in high school. In school or not, we all were high, that's for certain. I also, would sometimes leave one of the bedroom windows unlocked, so my trusted friends could come and go, in case I was not there. A real nice guy. You think? Some, might have thought I must be a sucker, I guess, or I might not have been chiseled out of half of my stash.
I had just gotten back from a trip up to Mt. Everett, my paradise in the Berkshires and was wanting to get stoned, when I opened up my cupboard to get my stash. "What the fuck is this," I said. I took the bag of Colombian that I had left behind and noticed about half of it was gone. What a surprise! Somebody ripped me off for half of my stash. "Mother fucker," I muttered to myself. Who the fuck would take half of my stash and leave me the rest? My mind could not formulate the answer to this unsolved mystery and for years I never knew who had ripped me off for just half of my pot and then left the rest for me. It kinda sounds funny, but I figured I must have been ripped off by a friend. Only a friend would still leave you something to still get stoned with. Right? What kind of friend? This I would find out over 20 years later.
I would occasionally come back to visit my parents for Xmas and would rent or borrow a car and go visit old friends. Me and my friend Bob, who I hadn't seen for a while, were on our way up to Brewster to visit some old friends. Chicky and Patty, who had married and had kids. They invited us to stop by and visit them at their house in Connecticut. We arrived in the afternoon and stayed over night till the next morning. At the dinner table we talked of good old times that we shared, growing up as teenagers in Brewster and how lucky we were to make so many great escapes from the cops, who were the peskiest bunch of ass holes ever. During this conversation, I mentioned the time that someone stole half of my bag of Colombian, but had still left me half to get stoned on. The unsolved mystery was about to start unraveling. Then...., finally..., after all those years of wondering who, Chicky says,"Yea, that was me." Wow! no,WoW! no, WOW!!!!!! "Your kidding that was you" I said. Dumbfounded by the discloser of this information and being a New Yorker by heart, I demanded my other half an ounce back immediately. No I didn't, I was just kidding you my friends. I shot him! Oops..., just kidding again. Actually I don't remember just what I really did or said, so just use your imagination and do or say something to him for me. Thanks, that was appropriate. Well played! Good going!
So, what do you think? Was he a friend? Or was he not a friend, by doing this dastardly deed? I'm gonna leave this one to a vote. If you want to vote on this pressing issue, please cast your vote on the comment page and the results will be tallied in due time and process. At that time, I will reveal the count and decide weather he was a friend, or not, at the time the alleged crime took place. Thumbs up? Or thumbs down? It's up to you. Oh,! by the way, this can give all you hippies a chance to vote for the first time, so take advantage of this one time voting experience. Let the votes be cast!
This is not jury duty my friends, Wizzzmo