The Missing Cannabis
“Fuuck!”
The shout rang through the walls of the house.
Cory promptly lifted her head up off of the coffee table, rudely awoken by the noise.
The table was covered in crumbs of cannabis, some of which were caught in her hair. She looked around for the source of the noise, but there was no-one else in the room; it must have come from elsewhere.
She winced in pain, gasping slightly. She put her hand to her neck. She had been sleeping, but her head had been resting on the table on its side. Awkwardly, her body was still somewhat upright at the same time, putting her neck at a funny angle. She hated the feeling of stiffness, knowing that it would not pass for hours yet.
She noticed the crumbs of cannabis on the table. She could not remember what she was doing just before she fell asleep. Perhaps she was smoking, or perhaps the crumbs had just never been cleaned up from a much earlier smoke.
As it happens, there was also a joint on the table, but how old it was wasn’t clear. It wasn’t emitting any smoke.
She put her hands in her hair.
Her eyes closed in embarrassment.
There were crumbs all over her hair. She hated when they got stuck in there.
She tried to brush the crumbs out with her hands, but somewhat gently, not wanting to disrupt the “shape” of her hairstyle by mussing it. Regardless, on one side of her head, her hair was squashed, that being where she was resting her head.
Generally, her hair was a mess.
She thought to herself at times, why bother grooming? She lived in squalor, after all. The table was filthy. The sofa on which she sat was beat-up and torn in places. All across the floor were strewn sports magazines and old clothes. Actually, some magazines were not sports, but porn. The whole room smelt musty.
Whilst she sat there in a daze, heavy footsteps rang through the walls from the same direction as the voice. They were coming from downstairs, in the basement. First the footsteps shook the wooden stairs leading up. Then they softened as they reached the carpet of the hall.
They were quite insistent. Something must be wrong, Cory thought.
Soon, the person made an appearance in the doorway of the room.
It was Cassie, her partner.
“Fuck me, Cory!” she shouted. “Someone’s stolen the dope!”
Cory just looked at Cassie vacantly, still tired and not entirely present.
“Huh…?” she said.
“The dope, dude! It’s all gone. We got to go!” said Cassie.
Cory still just stared vacantly at Cassie. She wasn’t thinking about the problem at hand. She was thinking about the odd choice of the word “dude”. They were both girls, it made no sense. But Cassie had this odd habit of referring to girls as “dudes”.
She seemed to have a masculine bent, wanting to be “one of the guys”.
She was definitely very headstrong, Cory knew that.
Cassie looked at Cory with an annoyed expression. Cory still didn’t move. Cassie then marched up to Cory, grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her up.
Cory groaned in response, trying to resist her arm being pulled. She swung it about some. She really did not want to go, being still half-awake, and did not feel like moving or complying with Cassie’s mission, whatever that may be. More than that, all this groaning and stress, in combination with everything else, was triggering a headache.
Cory did hate Cassie at times like this. Not that she really liked her much usually.
It was complicated. They had a complicated relationship.
Cassie’s grip was exceptionally strong. It was like being caught in a vice. There was no resisting her in the end.
In truth, Cassie’s strength was not natural. The strength came from her nature, being part-dragon. Anyone else (namely a human) may well have been catapulted from the sofa by the force; Cory was merely overpowered, on account of being part-dragon herself.
As Cory was dragged to her feet, she felt herself grab the joint by instinct, not wanting to leave it behind. Her knees caught the coffee table, which, being no obstacle for her own extraordinary strength, was thrown onto its side with a clang, sending the crumbs thereon scattering across the floor.