#i lost a fat doobie

[gravityknife]

Adventures of The 144p Progenitor

Introduce: The Zeddnought Cruiser

Story #6

"Kaishu," Ryoma murmured.

Kaishu didn't answer, being absorbed in his studies of hyperspace warp capabilities and wormhole travel.

"KAISHU!" Ryoma roared then sleazed. "Get your fat, doodoo a$$ over here, bro!... I rolled us up this fat f$cking dooooob, bro!"

"Remember what dad told us?" Kaishu tried to remind Ryoma, mothering him in a way.

Ryoma jested, "Duh-who? Dee— ayy— how do you spell their name? Doesn't compute."

He and Kaishu chortled.

"Ryoma, you're receiving a transmission from the USF," Kaishu noticed. He didn't want to be rude and share his opinion, but it was of his opinion that Ryoma was being negligent of what's important, and he was thinking dad would've grounded him, literally.

Ryoma didn't care. Ryoma was already hardened from a few battles, run-ins with pirates and strays from outlying vessels, and his personal experiences back on Earth.

"They can wait, bro! Come hit this with me," Ryoma said, smoking his oversized joint and holding it in until he coughed it out. "Kaishu, come on, bro... dad and the... USF cop squad aren't even doing rounds here, bro." He chortled.

Kaishu looked on at Ryoma, smiling and frowning at the same time. He wanted to maintain the hope that Ryoma would change his ways. He turned away from Ryoma and went back to his studies, hugging his ears between his broad shoulders so as to ignore him.

Ryoma stared out the front of the cockpit and blew smoke at it. He got lost in thought, then remembered Ka'eo, for some reason, having a vivid vision of him cross his mind. He also remembered some of the space cadets Ka'eo knew and affiliated with who hated Ryoma, and Ryoma mutually hated them in return. He went from giddiness to a very linear, focused concentration. He thought to himself why am I thinking of Ka'eo? What the f$ck has that n$gga been up to, anyway? He's probably thinking of me, too. Ho, sup bah! What?! You in da kine, Planet Fitness?

Kaishu turned to look toward Ryoma, sensing some paranoia settling in. He knew what was going to happen next from Ryoma, having a good connection with his brother.

"Brah, f$ck the govern-meeennnt, brah," Ryoma pidgin-smacked, spitefully and humorously. He started his blow torch up again to relight the doobie.

Kaishu didn't bother saying anything, despite wanting to tell him again that they were lucky to be in a space ship after their dad pulled some strings to help them fly. Kaishu noted Ryoma's speech pattern meandering back to the Hawaii days. He thought of Ka'eo, briefly.

Ryoma spat, "Ka'eo would be jealous of us if he saw where we are now. Yeah, Kaishu? We're f$ckin' winning in space, bro! You, me, and the geek freaks." He chuckled to himself, then had a round of coughs.

Kaishu imagined the image that Ka'eo had designed in Photoshop from the high-school days. It was a space-themed edit of Ryoma's face, crossworked with glitchy effects. Kaishu had mixed feelings towards Ka'eo because of his brother, but his allegiance remained with his brother, Ryoma. After all, Ryoma and Kaishu survived together through the academy process, as well as through all the space battles.

"Don't say that, Ryoma," Kaishu said, quietly, in reference to the geek freaks comment. He chanced, "The geek freaks will hear us."

They both snickered together.

"But they are! Kaishu! They're f$ckin' freaks, bro. I love 'um, but they're weird! I saw Ruiz, the other day, full on picking his a$$ in the corridor. I was watching him on the live feed. Dude was doing that, then didn't wash his hands, and Jonah was sitting in the cafeteria room, when Ruiz walked in and he shook his hand, and sat down next to him like he didn't just shove his fingers in his butthole," Ryoma informed.

"That's gross, Ryoma," Kaishu said, looking at him with a slight grin on his face. Kaishu still wanted to know more. His brother was extremely good at making way for rumors in the form of good stories.

Ryoma resumed, "Yeah. Ruiz smells like a$$, bro! He's never taking showers, he just goes straight from his room to the commons, then goes and polishes his weeaboos in robotics. Stupid, fat f$ck, bro. How can he be Japanese and Mexican at the same time?"

Kaishu laughed at the sudden detour in Ryoma's focus. "That's so gross, Ryoma. And what's wrong with being Japanese and Mexican?"

"He's weird, bro! I hate his f$cking dumb name and his ripped a$$hole walk that he does around the ship. F$ck Ruiz, bro! Brah! F$ck Ruiz, brah! For real kines, brah!" He ranted, then shifted his mood into wonder. "Bro, what if—"

"Ryoma, stop," Kaishu said, going back to his studies. He telepathically relayed the worse that could happen onboard into his brother's opened mind.

"Yeah, I know," Ryoma said, leaning forward in his seat, clicking the torch button to relight again. He burnt his finger on the button. "F$ck!" He exclaimed to himself sourly, sucking on the tip of his finger, then wiping it on his pants.

"Ryoma, answer the transmission," Kaishu instructed.

Ryoma maneuvered his seat close to the cockpit control panel, sliding it into a locked position. "Kaishu!" Ryoma barked.

Kaishu ignored him, knowing he just wanted to get even for the seeming attitude of superiority. Kaishu looked up at Ryoma, innocently, to ease his anger.

Ryoma watched Kaishu with suspicious eyes, but didn't feel aggression. He then immediately turned himself toward the panel and completely engaged in the comms. "Alright, let's hook this fakka up, then! Hook 'um awp like this, riiight here, baddah, watch, Kaishu," Ryoma said to himself, scrolling the touch screen to the USF Communications board. He went silent, scrolling from one page to the next, trying to find the recent transmission. "Eh!" Ryoma amused.

"Ryoma, just hit the flashing button up top, and make sure you set it to the overhead speaker. I want to hear it too," Kaishu guided in a soothing tone.

"Eh, brah!" Ryoma chortled. "Was wondering, brah, how come dis ting no stay on my da kine, brah!" He laughed in weed-high. He flipped up a panel switch hood then switched a toggle, causing the above panel to jut out and ease down closer to him. It slightly blocked his view of the window, but now he gained more ease of access. "Deya we go! ... Braddah Kai-shuuuu!"

The transmission abruptly started, booming from the overhead speakers. It was a USF command ship officer hailing them and giving them a directive: Greetings, fellow earthling cadets. We've marked the MacKalla asteroid that has a space station located on it, the MacKalla T-Rover Space Station—"

Ryoma laughed then interrupted mockingly, "MacKalla T-Rooohhh-veeerrrr." His interruption ceased the broadcast automatically.

"Ryoma, quiet, let it go," said Kaishu. Kaishu had a quick premonition that troubled him, but he felt confident in his training, skills, and knowledge.

Ryoma continued to chuckle to himself, finding the names of space stations to be as silly as everything the government named on Earth.

The transmission resumed: Station, one that we established for the purpose of experimenting with biological, chemical, and geological findings, as well as engaging in the processing of biofuels and various chemical compounds. This station was—"

"Kaishu! We're f$ckin' pros at all that sh$t, bro! They're going to send us to a f$cking goldmine of opportunities, aren't they?!" Ryoma gushed.

Kaishu got annoyed and hushed Ryoma, telling him, "Ryoma, shizukani!" He pressed his index finger against his lips, rotating his seat left and right, focused down into his computer table.

Again, the transmission resumed: "Was recently located by a USOF-certified vessel named The 144p Progenitor. Their findings were disturbing, to say the least. There are no known humanoids aboard the station. We are ordering you and your crew to extract any remaining data from their Communications Array, preferably from a distance. If you can do this remotely, your odds of survival near the asteroid increases by 75%. Should you choose to land there, an unknown anomaly, traited as aggressive in its physical behaviors is present. You do not have permission to eliminate any personnel, nor the anomaly. If you understand our directive and are ready to embark, ping us your current location and transmit an approval message. Do be expedient. We thank you and your crew, Zeddnought Cruiser. Captain Raymond Borges, USOF Command, over and out."

"Over and out!" Ryoma mocked, saluting the ceiling. He impacted, "Broooo, he said, 'do... be... expedient!' Brooo, Kaishu," Ryoma relented in surprise. "What do you think that means?" Ryoma started to feel paranoid again, thinking they know I'm f$ckin' smoking the reefer. They're going to bust us! No, wait, positive vibes only. I do not accept the negativity of the USF patrol. They are not aligned with my path.

Kaishu laughed. "Ryoma, you're overthinking what the captain said. All you have to do is ping your location and transmit an approval of mission."

Ryoma flipped around in his seat toward Kaishu and cried dramatically, "No, Kaishu! I've never had to ping location before! Why do they want our location, bro? I think they're going to f$cking bust us! F$ck! Kaishu!" Ryoma was becoming very unchill. "No. Kaishu! What if we transmit the signal and then ping them when we're already at the asteroid? If we do that, we'll already be there! They won't bust us if we're already there, doing the space community and the USF of the cosmos... a great service, of course!" Ryoma dramatized, though his rationale was clear enough.

"Ryoma, we've had to ping our location before. We did that before surfing this spot, too," Kaishu consoled gently.

Ryoma paused to think, taking a serious look on his face. His eyes lit up, and he went manic. "You're right!! Kaishu. You're right!" He laughed in weed-high, "Ahah-ha-haa! Let's go, Kaishu!" He pushed toward the mission, focusing completely on the next destination. He mocked a professional tone. "We're going to MacKalla T-Rover! Pinging location now! Zeddnought Cruiser, up and out, Captain ah-ra-ra," Ryoma gushed, chuckling. "We're in the pipe! Expedient! In the pipe, sir! A smoking ten-four!"

"Five by five," Kaishu added, smiling, trying not to laugh.

Their ship's thrusters heated up and adjusted itself, yaw, pitch, and all angles, onto the safest course to the MacKalla asteroid. It boosted forward in great force.

[aliendissection]

Here’s a thot version of myself snorting methamphetamine with the cast of riverdale in the sims 4.

Sadly I lost the screenshot of jughead smoking a fat doobie :(

[benwitko]

I smiled through everything

The mood sets the experience… I want to share a portion of my life. A recent portion that I learned so much from, but not at all proud of. I am proud that I made it and have recollected myself, but I never look back without questioning myself for the choices I made and how I allowed myself to fall so far. But through it all, I smiled through everything. I want to share this recent chapter of my life vaguely, but as a platform for other people struggling. Because there is an end in sight and I am a firm believer that anyone can change the life they live for better or for worse.

I embarked on a life changing experience almost three months ago. I came to Spain to study Spanish and business. I made it here… after grueling hours of planning, making deadlines that seemed to never end, juggling school and the requirements of life, it had finally paid off. I had tunnel vision, and Spain was the promised land waiting for me as the beacon of light. The angelic glow was waiting, patiently, through a tunnel of priorities. A tunnel that brought me to my knees at the end of it and left me crawling, with zero motivation or energy to make it out of the tunnel, but I did. I succeeded.

I smiled through everything.

During the grueling semester at school, I occupied myself with far too much. I never stopped moving— Monday through Sunday, I was busy focusing on everything and everybody but myself. I was intent on becoming involved in everything I possibly could, and that was the biggest mistake I had ever involved myself in. 18 credits, pledging to a fraternity— which I then assumed the role of secretary for my pledge class—taught classes and tutored for math 141, submitted notes for people with disabilities in two of my classes that I had shared with them, worked weekends at Best Buy, and to top everything off, beset before myself were obligations necessary to studying abroad in Spain. The stress basking before me, I coped in ways that I currently have promised myself that I will never take part in again so that the stress would never be around me— I really don’t want to go back, my body and brain are both on board with this. It was all a hoax, the stress was around me the whole time, and I was suffering. I lost touch with myself and everyone around me.

I smiled through everything.

Marijuana, cannabis, weed, pot, hash, ganja, doja, bud, Mary-Jane. Whatever you call it, the names all belong to a green plant that began to control my life. My first time ever consuming marijuana was my sophomore year of high school, but I never really thought anything of it; I enjoyed it a couple of times here and there, but it never gained the favor in my life as it did during the beginning of freshman year of college. Doobies, bongs, joints, blunts, pipes, edibles, drinks, rigs, you name it, I was consuming it daily, and wow did I love it. It was the best way to come down from a long and hard day at school. At first, I never let it cross with education or social life at all; I strictly consumed it at night after all of my school work was accomplished and had zero obligations to fulfill, other than making it to bed at some point before the next day. It remained this way for the entire first semester, but then I decided to enjoy it during the day in my second semester, but never during class. It was fun, it was bright, it was exhilarating. The thrill of being around my friends, completely inebriated—“completely shredded,” as I liked to consider myself—hiding my current mental state through an allusion of my regular self. It was fun, because no one knew I was high, and the thrills I received were from constant thought of someone knowing my secret. A secret I was able to keep well hidden, a secret that made me feel powerful, a secret that made me feel invincible.

I smiled through everything.

I became infatuated with a plant, and that plant began to take control of me. It was a one way relationship, one that I could never satisfy by giving it attention or ignoring it because it continuously prodded and poked at me in both circumstances. So I obliged and continued doping myself all day and everyday, because I didn’t want to perceive the world for what it really was. I wanted nothing to do with my boring obligations sober, so I thought to experience them in a different perception in the world. But cannabis tends to have side effects, cumbersome side effects such as drowsiness, lack of concentration, munchies, and fatigue. But, I did my research, and found a ‘wonder drug’ that could counteract those affects while still enjoying the psychoactive properties. Ingesting adderral and focilin became a part of the morning routine. If it wasn’t for them, I would have failed arriving to class or simply exist as a functioning student or employee at work. I became addicted to the stimulants.

I smiled through everything.

I ended up loving the rush of focilin and adderral. It made me feel smart, it made me feel productive, it made life feel blissful. Consuming these drugs is best explained like this; imagine picking an instagram filter that resembled hues of gold and glitter for your vision. Imagine having the energy that makes you feel like you could take on the world. Imagine having the concentration of a brain surgeon amidst a life or death situation, but not needing to think hard about anything. Imagine having access to all the information in your brain faster than you’ve ever had it before. Imagine the possibilities that could stem from a productive drug; but it was nothing like that. All great things must have some side effect, right? Because once 8 hours had passed and the ’superman-like’ state of perceiving the world had vanished, the royal and beautiful filter that once encompassed my vision had vanished and the world was black and white, everything melancholy, somber, and quiet. Thoughts would tremor, I felt mentally incapable of feeling, and the only thought in my head was how soon it would be before I could get high again.

I smiled through everything.

After the come down from consuming the focilin and the adderral—which I never mixed together— I found respite in sparking a freshly packed bowl of green herb. The bliss was restored, but the filter was different. The world would be a hue of over saturated bright lights and deep shadows that appeared to be the void of nothingness. My focus on the issues at hand were gone. The world was bright. I was happy again.

I smiled through everything.

My routine carried me through summer and into sophomore year of college but I had done away with the stimulants, as I saw no need in them until school started again. The summer, well, as much as it was a big portion of my life, I had very few obligations to myself other than working out, smoking pot, making money, and sleeping. Something that I started to notice was that the ‘munchies,’ a common side effect of smoking that makes someone want to consume copious amounts of food, became terribly worse. To save a long story and make it short, I had developed a binge eating disorder.

I smiled through everything.

Eating food used to be an aspect of life that I would do only when my body needed it, as I used to be an overweight child uncomfortable in my own skin. But now, I had no control. I would eat until I passed out, or even puked. I would wake up the next morning from a night of overindulging and say that I would never do it again… but it happened almost every night. I felt guilty. I felt fat again. I no longer had the confidence and moral that I used to be so proud of. I mentally compensated by exercising more intensely, more rigorously, and for longer hours, but all health gurus know that it is impossible to outwork an unhealthy diet. During the day I ate as clean as possible, as little as possible, and as early as possible in my schedule because I knew there was always a high chance of me binging late into the night— I wasn’t wrong. I spat at my reflection in the mirror. I hated what I was becoming, but I couldn’t stop it. I was a train derailing slowly and still managing 75 miles per hour off the track. Let that analogy continue to not make sense or let it be comprehendible, because when you understand what I mean behind it, then you’ll understand how fucked my thoughts were at the time.  

I smiled through everything.

Bringing with me the dreaded eating disorder into second semester with me, I started consuming nearly nothing during the day, with the exception of a leafy green salad for lunch everyday and a coffee to sip on in the morning. I wouldn’t eat dinner because I had too much to do. If it wasn’t school it was the fraternity, if it wasn’t the fraternity, it was work, if it wasn’t work, I was rigorously completing my obligations to study abroad. To reward myself at night, I would get high—nothing new here— and binge until I passed out and could wake up to forget the day that had just happened. Half a pill for the morning, and then snort the rest around 2pm. That was how everyday went. I would let that carry me through until I was able to spark up at night. I ingested some form of cannabis every night, and then I decided to get ballsy. I became a stereotypical wake and bake stoner. Someone who would start his or her day with the consumption of weed. I kindly adhered to this, and gave me another exhilarating adrenaline rush, now that I was actively engaged in classroom discussions and group work projects while inebriated. But I still had the focus of a doctor, thanks to the stimulants. I knew, for a while, that what I was doing wasn’t who I wanted to be.

I smiled through everything.

That first night over that summer, when I looked in the mirror and spat in it, something malignant began to fester inside of me. It was early in the summer, I think it was maybe late June, but it was when I knew I needed to stop. But I hadn’t a single clue how. So I continued to walk down a gloomy path. I felt that I was in too far, and so I needed to keep walking. I never was diagnosed with it, but I truly believe that I started to suffer from depression and anxiety. I am a firm believer that I did become depressed. I cried almost every day, I longed for a life of health and fortune, but my hopes were quickly doused with the reality of life. I am only 19 and at the time 18. Such an early age to be thinking that was what my life would succumb to. I never came close to suicide, but at many points during the summer and my semester, I contemplated what life would be like if I wasn’t living anymore. I measured the pros, the cons, the many avenues of approaches, but I never acted on anything. I remained positive around everyone and everything. I still was the first person for someone to cry to. I was still the first person to offer help to someone in need. I still am that person, but at that time, I really don’t think I was in any mental state to be helping others before helping myself. But I gladly helped others, because seeing a smile on another face somehow managed to spark a smile on mine. It has always been that way—helping others both emotionally and physically gave me a sense of belonging to the world. It still does to this day fulfill me more than any other way of life.

I smiled through everything.

I was sick, I was scared, I was sad. “Just make it to Spain, just make it Spain. Just. Make. It. To. Spain.” Is what I continued to tell myself as I wreathed through a semester of hell. I was unhappy everyday, even with the drugs. I started to drink on weekends. I kept drinking until I wouldn’t feel anything, so that I would forget what needed to be accomplished. At night, that was the best option for me: Forget the day and start new tomorrow. There was a feeling in my stomach, the feeling that wallows in your gut when deciding the correct answer on a multiple choice question, and it was the answer to stop. To stop everything that has abutted me. To stop this torrential lifestyle and begin anew. Spain, that place, that name, that idea continued to fester and motivate me. It hardly motivated me, but it did. Whatever small amount of light it had shed on me, it worked.

I smiled through everything.

“I smiled through everything,” is the title of this, and is represented in this part of my life because even deep down, through the tears and the cries, I continued to smile. Ask anyone about me, and they would say something about me always being happy and enjoying life. They would say that I always had something to say that was positive, or something to contribute in an uplifting and friendly manor. That, that is me—A happy individual that loves life, even sober. That is who I am as a person. I should be loving life naturally, but at the time I wasn’t. Yeah, drugs are pretty fucking awesome, but I let them control me. I don’t ever want that to happen again… I won’t ever let that happen again. I know how much I appreciate being sober and I enjoy the very nature of physically and mentally challenging myself, but I can’t do those to my absolute best ability with the addition of narcotics and plants that alleviate my pains and ailments for a temporary time. It isn’t natural.

I smiled through everything.

The story I am sharing is in lieu of me slowly slipping, even while here in Spain. The place that I thought would be my ‘holy grail’ and save me from myself. But here I am, trying to understand who I am. I think that after having written this and sharing it, I know what I need to do and what activities that I need to take part in. I really think that much later down the road, when I can’t be active, then I’ll consume cannabis products again, but for now, I’ll spend my time and money on other aspects of life that I find more enticing. I think about running everyday. I think about how much I miss being with a team of friends, friends that I could never forget. I miss racing until my legs and lungs didn’t function correctly, but I also miss the competition with my classmates during class. I miss being sober enough to care. I miss the challenges of life from a sober perspective; parts of life that I can truly remember and think to myself, “Damn I did that,” and not have a second thought about it. I think now I know what I must do. I think I know what needs to be reincorporated in my life.

From the person who smiled through everything,

Benjamin C. Witkowski.

P.S. Mom, Dad, Elisabeth, Family, if you’re reading this and concerned, I am in full control of everything in my life right now. I stopped the drugs. I regained my love for running. I regained my love for life. I am sorry, I truly am for not bringing this to your attention in complete detail, but I wasn’t able to bring words to my mouth when I would want to initialize my plea for help. I love you guys so much, thank you for dealing with my antics.