Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…but I wish I did.
A/N: This little work of fiction was inspired by an episode of Roseanne. Lyrics are to "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane.
"Cath, when was the last time you cleaned this garage out?" Sara asked as she wiped sweat from her brow.
"It's, uh, been a while."
Greg stood there holding a jacket with built in shoulder pads. "I think my mom had one just like this." He pulled it on and started strutting around the garage.
"I think that jacket was made for you, Greg. You actually have broad shoulders now. And I have to admit, that is a much better look on you than that head piece you put on that belonged to that old Vegas showgirl."
Greg blushed at the memory. "I can't help it if I'm in touch with my feminine side."
"I would strongly suggest you get in touch with your masculine side," Catherine said as she pulled another box down from a shelf and handed it to Sara.
"Why are we even bothering to go through this stuff? We've been at this for hours and you've decided to throw away every single box we've gone through. Can't we just toss them all to the curb?"
"No, Greg. We can't. I didn't label things. If we just start throwing boxes out, I might throw something out that holds a special memory—something that belonged to Lindsey."
Suddenly, Greg let out a loud whoop. "Or another kind of special memory?" He asked as he held up a small baggie.
Catherine gasped when she saw what he had in his hands. Sara's eyes went wide with shock.
"Catherine! Is that what I think it is?"
"That, uh, must have belonged to Eddie." She hoped that Sara and Greg would buy her story.
Greg was laughing hysterically. "Catherine likes the wacky weed! Is your best friend named Mary Jane, Cath?"
"Greg!" Sara interceded on Catherine's behalf. "You're a scientist. I'd expect you to be a little more scientific in your naming of the substance you're holding in your hands."
"So you'd prefer me to say cannabis? Reefer? Pot? Ganja?"
"You two, this is not funny. I have no idea how old this stuff is," Catherine said as she attempted to grab the bag from Greg. "Give me the damn bag, Greg."
"Think this wacky tobacky is any good?" Greg asked Sara.
"I dunno. How long does pot keep?" Sara said as she shrugged her shoulders.
"I never had any around long enough to see if it went bad," Catherine said as she walked away from the pair. She froze in her steps as soon as she realized what she had said. She spun around on her heels and said, "Alright, I've smoked a little weed before. But I didn't inhale!"
Sara looked Catherine like she had three heads. "You've smoked pot?"
"Who hasn't?" Greg said as he opened the bag and held his nose over it.
Sara frowned. "Am I the only person in the world who hasn't smoked pot?"
Greg and Catherine both said, "What?" at the same moment.
Catherine walked toward Sara, "You mean you've never…not once…ever….never….tried pot?"
Sara looked at her incredulously. "Why would I? I don't like being out of control and if I used some sort of drug, I wouldn't be in complete control of my faculties. And I've never met anyone I'd trust to be around—if I did want to do smoke it."
Catherine and Greg both exchanged excited glances before turning toward Sara with smiles plastered on their faces.
"I don't like those smiles. What are you two thinking?"
Catherine walked over and grabbed Sara's arm and started pulling her into the house. Greg was following them.
"Cath, where are we going?"
"To the bathroom."
"Uh, what are we going to do in the bathroom? And why are you two grinning like Cheshire cats?"
Sara found herself pushed into the bathroom and joined by Catherine and Greg.
Catherine took the bag from Greg and set it on the counter.
She pulled the papers out of the bag and pulled a single piece of paper out, creasing it. She reached into the bag and grabbed a pinch of weed and sprinkled it onto the paper. With experienced fingers, Catherine soon rolled a perfect joint.
"How the hell did you do that so quickly?" Greg asked. His eyes were trained on Catherine's quick movements.
"Experience, my dear boy. Experience."
"Uh, someone want to tell me what we're doing in here. And why you're rolling a marijuana cigarette?"
"First of all, Sar, we don't call them marijuana cigarettes. You can call it a doobie," Greg said.
"…a blunt," Catherine offered.
…or a joint," Greg added.
"Okay, then why are you rolling a blunt?" Sara asked, uncertainty tainting her face as the word blunt rolled off her tongue.
"Cause we're gonna smoke, dumbass," Catherine said as she put the joint between her lips and fired it up.
"Cath, I don't think we need…" Sara started.
"OH, sit down and relax, Sidle."
Catherine passed the joint to Greg who took a long hit before holding it out to Sara.
She just stared at the joint in his hand. He shook it in her direction, indicating that she needed to take it.
"I don't want it."
Catherine leaned over and whispered something in Sara's ear, prompting a smile out of the brunette. She reached out unsteadily and took the joint from Greg. "Okay, what do I do now?"
"Smoke it just like you would a cigarette, but hold the smoke in a bit longer," Greg advised her.
Sara held it to her lips and took a quick hit. "Okay, I did it. I don't feel anything. Can I go now?"
"Give it time, girl. Remember what I told you," Cath said as she winked at Sara.
The joint went around the trio several more times.
In the meantime, Sara had sat down in the bathtub. Greg was sitting on the toilet and Catherine was sitting on the floor against the door.
Out of nowhere, Sara suddenly says, "Oh my god! Is this the sink? Am I sitting in the sink? Am I shrinking?"
Greg and Catherine started laughing at her hysterically. Greg was laughing so hard, he rolled off the toilet and onto the floor. This made Catherine scream in delight. She was bouncing against the door laughing and pointing at Greg.
"I am so stoned. Cath, that must've been some good shit you bought," Greg said to the ceiling.
"Nothing but the best my man."
Greg crawled over and sat beside Catherine. They were whispering back and forth, but Sara couldn't understand what they were saying. She kept moving her head side to side, hoping that she'd pick up some details of their conversation—still nothing.
Sara sighed deeply, and slid onto her back, propping her feet on the wall of the tub. "Nobody loves me. It's just me and my ganja."
Greg and Catherine simultaneously broke out in a fit of laughter that was soon interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Mom! Mom! Are you in there? I smelled something burning. What are you doing in there?"
Greg turned and looked at Catherine, before whispering, "Who is that?"
Catherine's eyes went wide with terror. Lindsey.
"I think that's Lindsey," Catherine finally said. She crawled to her knees and looked through the keyhole to see who was knocking on the door. "Yeah, it's Lindsey
"Lindsey. Oh my god. Have you ever listened to what her name sounds like? LINZZZEEEE. LINZZZEEEE. Freaky name you gave your kid there, Cath."
Catherine elbowed Greg, who fell over on his side in mock pain.
"Uh, we're just trying to roll Sara's hair sweetie. Greg got the curlers a little too hot and burned some of Sara's hair."
Lindsey had a hard time hearing Catherine's explanation over Sara's singing—way off key.
One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all;
Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall
And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall;
Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call;
To call Alice, when she was just small.
When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go;
And you've just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving low;
Go ask Alice, I think she'll know.
When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead;
And the white knight is talking backwards;
And the red queen's off with her head;
Remember what the dormouse said,
Feed your head, feed your head
"That's it!" Greg said as he jumped to his feet, swinging the door open. "Your name is Alice now. From now on, you will not be called Lindsey. We will call you---ALICE! ALICE! ALICE!"
Lindsey, now known as Alice, rolled her eyes and huffed up the stairs.