# Tinted Windows (Language, drug use)



## ma348212 (Oct 28, 2013)

Two  roommates sit in a BMW parked only a hundred or so feet from their  first-floor dorm room. If Liam tilts his head far back enough, he can  see right into their window, see the pile of emptied tobacco on his  dresser. 

This car isn’t going anywhere. These guys, they just sit,  chat, burn. They have their seats reclined as far as possible, which  Kerry believes should make them invisible to any patrols. He thinks Liam  would agree with that.

Granted, it’s unlikely that they’ll get  caught tonight. The visitors’ lot is packed with cars belonging to rich  kids from the lamer college uptown. They’re all here for that big banger  on 25th street; that’s where all the cops are. Liam and Kerry could be  there, too, but who the hell wants to hang out with that many strangers?  The two have all sorts of other things they could be doing, none of  which sounded better than a good hotbox.

Kerry lights up, takes a  long drag, and asks: “What the hell ever happened to winter?” He  pauses, thinks, confirms his astute observation. “Decembers in the  mid-west used to be cold as fuck.”

Liam knew, from the moment the  car began to haze up, that Kerry was going to say something stupid like  that. He always does after his first puff.

“Yeah, they've been mild,” says Liam. “But who’s complaining?”    

“I am,” says Kerry. He coughs up a big heap of smoke and passes the blunt. “_I_ am.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“I’m a skier.”

“How often?”

 “Often. I’m serious about it.”

“Bullshit. There is no such thing as a serious skier. The second  someone gets serious about snow, they move onto boarding.” “I prefer  skiing,” says Kerry.

“No. You’ve just never tried snowboarding. Big difference.” 

“How do you know?” asks Kerry.

“Because you’re scared of change,” says Liam. He ashes, passes.  “Typical behavior of a man-child. You’re terrified of anything you  haven’t tried before. Like, earlier today—”

“Don’t even go there, man! That stew was fucking fowl. Nobody eats cafeteria beef.”

 Liam reaches beneath his passengers seat, knowing he will find some  sort of food trash, and, lo and behold, up comes a Burger King wrapper  containing a half-eaten cheeseburger. Liam carelessly flings it Kerry’s  way, and it barely misses him.

“_That_!” says Kerry. “Do you know how many fucking additives, how many chemicals, how many cows, how much shit—how much _cow shit_—went into that shit?”

 Kerry, not listening, digs for the burger, which has wedged itself  tightly between his seat and door. He fishes it out and groans at the  site of his slimy hand.

“Oh, don’t be off-put,” says Liam. “That  meat is of just as high quality as when you first bought it. In another  year, same story.”

 “You eat fast food, too, bro,” says Kerry.

“I think you’re missing the point, bro.”

“Well, the blunt is out.”

Liam hands over a lighter, and when Kerry makes a remark about it being white—“bad luck”—Liam can’t help but chuckle. “Freshman much?” he asks.

“Shut up, dick,” says Kerry. He dismisses Liam with his hand. “Back to Maryland with you.”

“Alright, and you go back to your fluffy-pillow suburb in New York.”

“Better than shit-hole Baltimore!”

 “At least there were things to do there,” says Liam. Concerts to  attend, shows to play. He was a drummer. “I told you I was in a band,  right?”

 “I feel like you may have linked me to its Myspace page once,” says Kerry. “But it’s stoned, and I’m fuzzy. Was it metal?”

 “Yes,” says Liam. He laughs. “And I think you mean—"

 “Was it shitty?”

“Yes.”

“I _do_  remember that!” Kerry grins with clenched teeth, and smoke seeps out of  his nostrils. “Each member wore tie-dye, and you were the, uh…singer?  But you left for some reason—right?”

“Joint pain, that’s all. And no, I wasn’t the singer. Remember how I went out of town last month to visit that chick? _She_ was the singer.”

“That psycho you went to visit in jail?”

 “She was also my girlfriend for a while; she wasn’t always in jail.” 

In  fact, Liam thought Sierra was a great person for those two years. He  remembers her following him outside the first time he had to put his  sticks down and bail in front of an entire audience. He was humiliated,  but Sierra made him feel alright. She sat on some steps with him and let  him smoke half her cigarette. It _started_ with a cigarette.

Liam puffs the blunt, then whispers—“_she really fucked me up_”—but Kerry hears him just fine.

 “Liam, never date a bassist. Go for guitarists. They’re better with their hands.”

 “What?”

“The bass only has four strings.”

Liam stops trying to make sense out of Kerry’s words. He tosses a roach  into an empty cup and then snags their second blunt from his pocket.  The fog is already strong enough, but Liam wants the car to _pop_  from all the smoke. His tame persona has subsided; his brain is  scrambled as badly as Kerry’s now. He stops talking for a bit and  wonders whether he is revealing too much.

“So, joint pain?” asks Kerry. “So, you’re like a 70-year-old?”

“Was. Got over it. Degenerative Disk Disease. Did you know I was  home-schooled from sophomore- to- senior year? My mom pulled me out  because I couldn’t even get from class to class anymore. She got me a  private fucking tutor, and still, I didn’t get shit done that whole  year. Got into this school on disability.”

Kerry coughs,  partly from smoke, partly from being surprised, but mostly out of  amazement. A four month long mystery has just been resolved.

“That, uh, explains a lot.” Another pause.

“Do you know why I sweat so much?” asks Liam.

“Because you’re a gross motherfucker,” says Kerry. He had spent more  cash on Febreeze than any other student around, but no, he was wrong.

 “_Suboxone_,” Liam explains. “It’s this drug that—”

“Drugs, drugs, drugs” — Kerry rolls his bloodshot eyes. Says he sticks to herbal remedies, believing there is a difference.

 “I would die without Suboxone,” says Liam. “Well, I would want to. That  time two weeks ago when I was throwing up—that was opiate-withdrawal,  not food poisoning.”

“You lying son of a fuck,” Kerry jokes. Then the bombshell hits: “Wait, heroin?”

“The Suboxone keeps the cravings from happening.”

“Fuck, man. But you— you, uh, kicked it, right?” His words have begun to slur, as have Liam’s:

 “Yeah. Got out of rehab clean and, uh, sober.”

“_Buuuuuulsheeet_.”  Kerry’s voice has skyrocketed too many octaves. “Rehab never works.  It’s one of those, uh, temporary solutions. You come out, and then what?  The drugs are right back in your face again.

“Nah,” says Liam. “She’s still locked up.”



_*Note: *I  wrote this for my creative writing class. The most common criticism was  that the story turned serious too quickly, too big of a jump. I would  like to know whether this forum agrees and, if so, has any suggestions  on how to fix the problem. That, and any other critiques._


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## Gavrushka (Oct 29, 2013)

You may want to include a language / drug use warning on the opening line (in the title is best). I don't think there are age restrictions on this site, and your prose is a little floral!

I will try and read this later if I get a chance.


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## escorial (Oct 29, 2013)

Drug use to snowboarding...using the dialogue to get a feel for the people in it had a hectic feel for me...not a stand alone piece but one that needs more to get a true feel for the authors intent.


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## ma348212 (Oct 29, 2013)

Gavrushka said:


> You may want to include a language / drug use warning on the opening line (in the title is best). I don't think there are age restrictions on this site, and your prose is a little floral!
> 
> I will try and read this later if I get a chance.



Thanks for the critique!

What do you mean by 'floral'?


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## Gavrushka (Oct 29, 2013)

Floral = swearing. - Sorry, regionalisation issue with that word. - Yes, I will read it a little later.


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## Gavrushka (Oct 29, 2013)

It was a struggle with some of the terminology, and I realised that I'd not form part of the target audience by a couple of generations grace at least! 

I liked the style of the prose, and I felt a little like a voyeur - perhaps sat on the back seat. Immersion kept slipping, as I had to pause to interpret the meaning of words. - I did feel that the personalities weren't quite consistent, but I can't identify how (I know, not helpful) but that might be more the effect of the drugs, and perhaps it was your intent?

GAH! I think I am too far away from the two characters in age to say anything meaningful. - I did have a slight issue with the Degenerative disk disease line, for some reason it just wouldn't swallow, but the lines that followed felt crisp. - I felt Kerry's discomfort at Liam's openness, so I hope that was your intent. 

You write well, but it was hard for me to read 'well' for the reasons I've mentioned.


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## Gumby (Oct 29, 2013)

I didn't feel like it turned too serious, too quickly. I found the pacing of the conversation to be pretty natural, as they are roommates they would probably be familiar enough to be discussing personal issues, especially when 'loosened up'.


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## Bard_Daniel (Oct 31, 2013)

I thought it was an interesting character piece. You also came to a good  realization by the end of the piece, which makes the rest of the  dialogue more valuable and important.

As far as dialogue went, I thought it was spot-on as well. No complaints there.

Overall, good.


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## beepmachine (Nov 4, 2013)

i liked it. the conversation seemed quite natural, especially under that particular circumstance. i feel the piece has a touch of personal experience -- could just be projecting, but it makes it believable to me. overall it's quite well-written. nothing really to nitpick. good job!


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## htins (Nov 12, 2013)

i like it, i think that the conversation may have gone abit serious a little quickly but no more then a few more bits in between to bridge the gap, i liked it though good work


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## EllieGR (Nov 19, 2013)

I think it flows just like a conversation that stoner college kids would have. may I ask what the assignment was?


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