Cannabis --1968
AN: Hello again! Chapter two of Cannabis1968, hope you all enjoy this.
I don't own Death Note.
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It was a rainy Sunday afternoon, almost three days after I had arrived in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district. My days had already been set in an organized rhythm of waking up and writing. I avoided L as much as I could, going out only when I heard the door to his room slam shut.
Normally when I did venture out of the dirty apartment, I watched Jerry and his friends joke around and play their music. Whenever they shooed me out of the sizable dining room/equipment area, I went outside for my research.
People trotted past me, laughing loudly at jokes only they heard. Children played with each other on the large grassy hill in the middle of the Haight-Ashbury that had been christened 'Hippie Hill'. On my strolls through the district, I would often see people who's acid trips had went bad. I had seen many types of hard drugs take hold of the people around me; at this, my notes grew larger.
That rainy Sunday though, I had stayed in my room, staring at a blank piece of paper that lay on my lap. I heard L tinkering on something that only he knew what the outcome would be; (It was something that had to do with a plastic sheet). His work station was always centered in the living room, so that if I wished, I would be able to watch him. I heard the distinct scraping of a purple crayon writing on the wall.
From time to time, smoke from a joint being lit seeped into my bedroom. I knew little about marijuana, and like most of the children that I had grown up with, it was considered a 'gateway drug' into the harder stuff such as heroin and cocaine. But, the smell of the expensive Indian cannabis filled my nose, making it vaguely thrilling and exotic.
I gingerly slid off my small spring mattress and crept over to the slightly ajar bedroom door. I was on my hands and knees as I peeked through the doorway. L sat (or crouched rather) on the green couch; a joint was between his lips and a pen was between two fingers. It looked as if he were writing something on his out-stretched left hand. Smoke tumbled from his nose, a trick that I found oddly appealing.
The door swung open with a loud squeak which caused L to quickly look up from his hand. His black eyes bore into my own as he took the joint from between his lips. "Yes Light; may I help you?" The mad man placed his hands on top of his knees, and rested his chin on the sharp knuckles.
I picked myself off the green carpet and stood at my door with an awkward grin decorating my face. "Er…sorry L, I slipped and fell--"
"I saw you watching me, Light." L remarked, his voice baring no signs of anger or annoyance. I knew that I need to tread carefully unless I wanted to risk pissing off my strange roommate.
"I was…uh…" L motioned for me to sit next to him on the couch. His black eyes watched me the whole time as I plopped gracefully on the green cushions.
"Light…are you offended because I smoke?" My gaze snapped to his own wide eyed one. I wondered if he would ignore me more than I had if I asked him why he did he smoke? I decided to tell him the truth.
"No! Not at all; but…L, if you don't mind me asking…why do you smoke?" I had been raised on movies such as 'Reefer Madness', and it surprised me slightly that someone would be so comfortable to do it in front of an other person. My eyes widened slightly as a small smile quirked the edges of L's lips.
"I do so because I find it enjoyable." He cocked his head to the left, and almost innocent look coming to his pale features. "Light, are you afraid that I'll place a baby in the oven?"
The unexpected (and morbid) joke caused me to snort, and then break out into loud laughter. L's expression became one of almost amusement, and he continued to finish off the half spent joint.
That day, I found out that L had almost a half kilo of marijuana stashed in a ceramic cookie jar in the apartment's tiny kitchen. "You may use this whenever you feel that it's necessary." L eyed me, noticing my slight worry of using something that everyone I had ever known pounded that thought process in my head that it was wrong. A small smile from my roommate comforted me into nodding.
On a rainy Sunday afternoon over strawberry cake and coffee, L and I had grown to be something of friends.
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Crappy ending? Please review!
L would seem like the one to smoke pot to 'turn on, tune in and drop out' and not LSD. But hey, that's just my opinion.