Norville Rogers' best friend was a dog. But that was not unusual for a 13-year-old boy. Norville had plenty of other friends in Plainsville, California. He had grown up there and Plainsville was not a place that people moved either to or from so his group of friends was basically the same as it had been in kindergarten. Except for Mark. Mark had been Norville's best friend until fifth grade and then his family had, against the odds, moved away. Not only moved away but moved to Los Angeles.

Take everything that you picture about California and stick it in a sock somewhere because none of it applies to Plainsville. Plainsville was not a beachfront community. It was well inland and was devoted to farming. Instead of hippies, beatniks, and surfer dudes, Plainsville had Republicans. Lots and lots of Republicans. Including Norville's parents and, if anyone asked him, including Norville himself. The way he had been taught, the Republicans stood for being law-abiding upstanding citizens. And that was Norville. At least until Mark moved back.

It was December 21st and school had let out for Christmas when his mother came home from the grocery store with big news, "Norville! Guess who I saw today."

Norville wasn't the brightest kid in town but he knew his line, "Who?"

"Edna Holmstead!"

"Mark's mom? Are they moving back?"

"Yes! They just got in town this morning. They're trying to move over Christmas break to give Mark a chance to get reacquainted with things here before he has to go to school. They even got their old house back since it's been on the market for two years."

"Can I go over and see him?"

"Of course, you can. Mark was always a good boy and his parents are fine people. I'm glad that he's part of your life again."

Norville ran upstairs to the bathroom and made sure that his short-cropped hair was properly combed and in place. He looked closely in the mirror. A few straggly new hairs were trying to make an appearance on his upper lip. His dad had taught him how to shave them and he carefully followed instructions until he was satisfied that he met standards.

He changed into a plaid oxford shirt with a button down collar which was appropriate for going to someone's home and ran out onto the back porch, "Scooby! Scooby Doo!"

Scooby Doo was his dog. Something of a Great Dane but not a purebred. Shaggy had found Scooby running on the beach when they had gone to the coast to visit Norville's aunt and the amazingly annoying cousins. They were just too cool for everything. Which had been why Norville spent most of that trip walking alone on the beach. He noticed the puppy following him the second day and then again the third day. On the fourth day, the dog trotted along beside him and Norville could see his ribs sticking out. The dog was starving. There was a small general store in town and the only type of dog food which he had enough money to buy was something called Scooby Snacks. The dog loved them. Loved them to the point that he jumped up on top of Shaggy and was nearly knocking him down before the bag was even opened.

Norville held the bag up in the air and tried to get them open while being playfully mauled by the beast. He yelled, "Scooby don't!" The attack persisted and Norville yelled "Scooby don't!" several more times until he finally was able to get the bag open and dump it on the ground. At which time he said, "Scooby do." Needless to say, the dog was named. And once the dog was named, he was part of the family. Which had been a hard sell to Norville's dad. But with wife, son, and daughter aligned fully against him, he knew he was going to lose so at least tried to get in some compromises.

"The dog stays outside and, if he starts barking and keeps my up all night, then he goes to the pound."

All were agreed and the dog was squeezed into their station wagon for the ride back to Plainsville where everyone kept their parts of the bargain. Scooby lived outside and had free run of the farm but was never far away when Norville called his name. And, strangely enough, no one in the family ever heard the dog bark. Not once. It was odd but saved disagreements with the patriarch of the clan so they just counted their blessings.

Norville stepped out on the back porch where he kept his bike and took in a breath to call his dog. Before he had finished his inhale, Scooby bounded to the porch and jumped on Norville licking at his face and with his whip-like tail wagging at almost supersonic speed.

"Scooby Doo, we're going to see my best friend in the whole world after you. His name is Mark and you're going to like him as much as I do. He moved away but now he's back. What do you think of that?"

Scooby looked at him excitedly as her always did. It wasn't like he was going to join in the conversation. He was a dog, after all. But Norville was excited so Scooby was excited and he ran along beside Norville's bicycle as he pedaled the two miles to Mark's house. It was a path they knew well because Mark lived at the edge of town near the school and this was the route that Norville pedaled every day. Scooby always tagged along and then returned home after his master went into the big building with all of the other humans.

This time, they stopped at a small two-story house which was off on a side street right after the road turned from gravel to asphalt. There was a U-Haul truck in the front yard and a group of people from the Baptist Church were helping Mr. Holmstead move things into the house. Mrs. Holmstead came running from the house as Norville was propping his bike against a tree.

"Norville! Norville Rogers! I was hoping you'd come by when I saw your mother at the store. Mark's upstairs in his room. Is that your dog?"

"Yes ma'am. We got him right after you moved."

"Well, he's certainly… big. He doesn't come indoors, does he?"

"No ma'am. He's an outdoor dog. At least, that's what my dad says."

"Your dad is right." She turned to her husband, "Alan. Look who's here. Norville Rogers!"

Mr. Homstead walked over and extended his hand. Norville shook it. Mr. Holmstead didn't seem to have his wife's general excitement, "I'm glad to see you, Norville. Maybe you can…" A look from his wife stopped whatever the end of that sentence was going to be. He exchanged it for a different one, "I'm sure that Mark will be glad to see you."

"I'm sure glad to see him!"

The smile that crossed the older man's face was wistful, "He's up in his room."

Norville turned to Scooby Doo, "You stay outside. I'll bring Mark out to see you. You'll like him."

Scooby ran around and was excited by all of the people and commotion.

Norville went into the house which he remembered well, the furniture was being arranged the same way it had been before and he found his way up the stairs and went straight to Mark's bedroom. Where he stopped. The room was the same as always but the boy standing in it was startling. Norville remembered that Mark had dressed and groomed himself just like Norville and all of the other upstanding, law-abiding Republican young men in Plainsville. But the person who stood over a box unloading clothing into the closet had long, stringy hair, the makings of a partial moustache on his upper lip, and he was wearing loose-fitting clothing which was full of holes. He looked like… like… a hippy or something.

"Mark?"

The hippy looked up, "Norville! Dude! What's happening?"

"Nothing much, I guess. You've changed."

"Like, I've been living in LA. LA changes everything. It is so cool! But my bogus folks dragged me back here. They think that I'm going to revert back or something. No chance, dude."

"Okay?"

Mark's face lit up, "Dude, are you on your bike?"

"Yes. I rode it over."

"Bodacious! Let's go."

"Go where?"

"I've got something I want to show you."

"Okay, I guess." And he followed his old friend down the stairs.

Norville ran out to his bike and waited for Mark to come around from the back yard with his own. Mark barely looked at his parents as he walked past, "I'm going to ride around a little with Norville."

Mrs. Holmstead smiled, "You have fun, Mark. It was nice seeing you again, Norville."

"Same to you, Mrs. Holmstead."

When Mark got to where Norville had left his bike, Scooby was waiting for them, "Dude, where'd you get the dinosaur?"

"This is Scooby Doo. He's my dog."

Scooby bounded around with his tongue hanging out. Another human!

"Totally radical. Now let's take off." And he began pedaling out of town with Norville and Scooby in hot pursuit.

It didn't take Norville long to figure out where they were going. Plainsville wasn't a big place and there weren't that many options. Their old group of friends had used to play hide and seek in the whole town and Norville and Mark had always hidden in the same place and never been caught. The Potter Farm was one of the larger farms in the county and it had a lot of buildings spread over it including multiple barns. One of them was old and dilapidated and no one used it or even ever went to it anymore. The drive to it was overgrown and the twin tire ruts could barely be seen in the tall scrub. But the ruts were hard enough and wide enough for a bicycle.

It was December in rural California which meant that it was in the 50's and Norville was wearing a light jacket. But after the whirlwind ride out to their old hiding place, he was sweating up a storm. He took off the jacket to cool off and was immediately too cold. He put the jacket back on and now the sweat-soaked garment was clammy. No winning this one. He sucked it up and kept it on.

"What did you want to show me?"

Mark pulled a baggie out of his pocket, "This." He then pulled out a pipe, "And this." Finally, a lighter appeared, "And this."

"What is it?"

"Dude, don't you know anything? This is, like, weed."

"Weed? Really? Marijuana?"

"Sure. I've got a friend in LA who's going to keep me hooked up as long as I share with my friends. You want to try it?"

This was not what an upstanding, law-abiding Republican boy would do, "I don't know."

"C'mon Norville. It's me. I wouldn't offer it to you if it wasn't, like, the coolest thing ever. It changes everything. I mean, it even makes food better."

"It makes food better? How?"

"You've just got to try it and see." Mark packed the bowl, lit up, and took a drag, holding it in. His voice came out in tiny snippets between clenched lips as he tried to keep the smoke in his lungs, "See? Nothing to it." He held the smoking pipe out.

Norville stared at it for a moment as Mark suddenly relaxed and exhaled the smoke from his lungs. It smelled odd. Scooby Doo scrunched up his nose and backed away and then moved upwind. Norville continued staring for a moment.

Mark waited patiently before drawing it back, "I'm not going to force you or anything. It's cool if you don't want to try it. It's just really excellent and I wanted to share it with my best friend in town."

That was nice. And Mark had been his best friend forever. He reached out. Mark smiled and placed the pipe into his hand with some instructions, "Take just a little smoke into your mouth and then suck it down into your lungs. Don't take too much."

Norville looked at the pipe in his hands and then over at his friend. He put it to his lips and tried to follow the instructions. When he sucked the smoke into his lungs, his chest constricted and a great hacking cough rang out, ejecting the smoke. The coughing continued for a moment.

Mark took the pipe back and took another drag, "Everybody does that the first time. Just try again." He handed it back over.

Norville was now embarrassed by his failure on the first attempt and he redoubled the effort. He was able to get the smoke into his lungs and hold it for almost three seconds before another coughing spasm rocked him.

"Dude, that was a lot better than my second try. Try again."

"Norville took another hit and held it in for even longer and this time was able to start exhaling on his own right as he felt the coughing about to start. When the bout of coughing ended, he looked up, "I don't feel anything."

"You don't always on the first try. I guess your body might have to get used to it."

Or maybe it didn't. After Norville's fifth or sixth hit, everything seemed to be moving really slowly. The wind blowing through the trees made them sway back and forth and back and forth. It was almost hypnotic.

"Hey Mark."

"Hey what?"

"Have the trees ever moved like that before?"

Mark slowly turned his head, "I don't know. Maybe." Then he began to stare at the trees just like Norville was doing. They both sat in silence and stared at the swaying trees.

The sun was going down. When had that happened? It was just a little after lunch. Wasn't it? But Norville was hungry. Really hungry. Mark was still staring at the trees. His head was swaying along with them. And that was hilarious. Norville just watched the trees and Mark's head and laughed. But now, it was getting a little less funny, his head was beginning to hurt, he really was hungry, the sun was going down, and it was getting cold.

"We should be getting back. Its almost time for dinner."

Mark's face turned toward him with bloodshot eyes, "Dinner? Right. Dinner sounds great."

They went back to the main gravel road. Mark turned right back toward town and Norville and Scooby turned left toward their farm. When they got back to the house, Norville still felt the effects of being… high? That was the word. He was still high. How long did this last? But he had to act normal or his parents would know what he had done. How could they not know? They had to know. The probably already knew even though his dad was still out in the fields and his mother was in the kitchen. He hadn't seen either of them yet but they had to know. They knew already.

He ran up to his room and changed clothes and brushed his teeth. Wow! The toothpaste tasted great! But he shouldn't eat it straight from the tube. He knew that. His mother's voice came up the stairs and he went down to dinner. Act normal. Act normal. Act normal.

Two things happened. One, he somehow managed to have a conversation with his parents and sister without anyone standing up, pointing a finger, and screaming. Two, dinner was AMAZING!

He met Mark every day leading up to Christmas and they went out to Old Man Potter's barn and smoked weed. Norville was really liking it and was becoming comfortable that, if he kept his cool and changed his clothes, his parents really couldn't tell. He started bringing snacks with him because he and Mark would get so hungry. And he, of course brought the Scooby Snacks along for the dog. On Christmas Eve, they ran out of the chips and candy bars and all that was left were the Scooby Snacks. He picked one up.

Mark pointed at him and laughed, "Dude, you're about to eat dog food!"

Norville looked at the brown morsel in his hand, "Well, Scooby sure likes them."

"Go ahead. Tell me how it is."

Norville popped the Scooby Snack in his mouth and immediately knew what his pet saw in them. It turned into gravy in his mouth. It was like a crunchy gravy-covered piece of beef jerky. He grabbed another one and ate it. Still good. He then handed one to Mark who popped it into his mouth.

"Awesome!"

Scooby whimpered slightly watching what had previously been his food being eaten by others. It was confusing and became more confusing as the two boys ate them all. It was only after the box was empty that Norville looked up, "Oh… sorry, Scooby. I guess we finished them." Scooby's whimpers intensified. Norville reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill, "Look Scooby, I have enough money to get you some more."

"Like Dude," Mark interjected, "My folks and I are headed back to LA for a couple of days right after we open presents in the morning. If you want, I can sell you a small bag of weed to, like, tide you over until I get back. I'll throw in a pipe and a lighter." He eyed the five-dollar bill.

Norville looked at Scooby whose ears were flat back on his head and then looked over at Mark. There was a momentary pause before he looked at Scooby one last time and handed him the five-dollar bill. Mark then exchanged it for a small baggy.

Mark stood, "Like, I gotta run. It's Christmas Eve and the folks will flip out if I'm out after dark. They play CDs of old Christmas songs and think its family bonding time or some shit."

Norville didn't use foul language and hearing it associated with Christmas Eve family time seemed out of place. But he was too high to really process it. He rode home with Scooby trotting alongside and entered the house to the sounds of the Amy Grant Christmas CD which had been a staple ever since he could remember. He listened for a moment. Mark was right. The whole scene was pretty lame.

His mother's voice came in from the kitchen, "Is that you, Norville?"

"Yes, ma'am." He called back.

"Did you have a good time with Mark?"

"Yeah, totally rad."

She stepped out of the kitchen stirring a bowl full of batter which had to be Christmas cookies. That was one part of the scene that was not lame. "Totally what?"

"Rad. It's an LA word that Mark taught me."

"Well, don't learn too many LA things from Mark. I was talking to his mother and he fell in with a bad crowd out there. That's the main reason they came back. They're hoping that you and your friends will be a good influence on him."

"I won't."

"Excuse me?"

"I won't learn too many LA things from him."

She nodded, "Oh. Okay." And she returned to the kitchen.

Christmas Eve came and went along with Christmas morning. Presents were opened, cookies were eaten, CDs were played and wrapping paper was burned in the fireplace. It was a little too warm for a fire but traditions are traditions. The other American tradition of finding yourself bored on Christmas afternoon settled in. Plainsville didn't have a movie theater and the nearest one was a 30-minute drive. So, after lunch, Norville told his parents that he and Scooby were going for a ride around town. This was normal and it was a beautiful day so his mother told him to have fun and retired for a well-deserved nap with another family Christmas in the books.

Norville bee-lined for Old Man Potter's barn and took out his baggie, pipe, and lighter. Somehow, smoking pot by himself seemed like he was stepping over a line but he was bored and he had some Christmas cookies in his pocket which he knew would be incredible when he was high. He lit up and took several deep drags until he could really feel it hitting him. Leaning back against the barn, he took in the experiences around him.

"Rye'm rungry."

Norville turned his fuzzy, blood shot eyes toward his dog, "What's that, Scooby?"

"Rye said, Rye'm rungry. Roo ate rye Scooby Snacks."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I'll get you some more."

"Roo gave Rark all rooer money for the stinky stuff."

"As soon as I get more money. I'll get you more Scooby Snacks. Okay?"

"Unress roo buy more stinky stuff."

"You know what, Scooby?"

"Rwhat?"

"Those old films they showed us in school were right. Marijuana does give you hallucinations. But those were always shown as scary and this one is really cool."

"Rwhat are roo talking arout?"

"Being able to talk with you is a really cool hallucination."

"Rwhy do roo think it is a rallucination?"

"Because dogs can't talk, silly."

"Ree can't?"

"No. Of course not."

There was a pause, then "Rhat is a ronundrum."

Norville's eyebrows furrowed, "A ronundrum?"

"Roe, ronundrum with a ree. Ay, bee, ree… ree."

"Oh… with a c. What's a codrundum?"

Scooby spoke slowly, "Ronundrum."

"Okay. What's a conundrum?"

"Rwhen romething roesn't make any sense rut is rappening anyray."

"Yes, this is a conundrum. There's another conundrum."

"Rwhat's that?"

"Since this is my hallucination, why can't you talk better?"

"Rwhat's wrong rith the ray I talk?"

"Dude, can't you hear yourself? It's, like, all r's."

"Rearry? Rye sound rokay to ree."

"It's probably because you don't have, like, lips."

"Rye don't?"

"I don't think so."

"Row do roo know?"

"Try to whistle."

Scooby blew out through his mouth and succeeded only in spreading spittle all over Norville, "Rye guess rat rettles it. Rye don't have rips. Rat sucks."

Norville wiped off his face with his hand, "Say it, don't spray it, Scooby."

"Rorry."

"You know what, Scooby?"

"Rwhat?"

"I think that I'm too much of a conformist."

"Rat's a pretty heavy ridea for a rirteen-rear old."

"I suppose. But I looked in the mirror this morning and you know what I saw?"

"Rwhat?"

"Opie Taylor."

Scooby pulled his head back, "Rye guess Rye see the resemblance, he-he-he-he-he-he."

"And I don't want to look like Opie Taylor. Maybe I should let my hair grow out a little and wear more comfortable clothes. It wouldn't hurt me to be a little shaggy."

Scooby giggled again, "A rittle Raggy. He-he-he-he-he-he."

"As long as we're having this hallucination conversation, there's something I've always wanted to ask you."

"Rwhat's that?"

"What was your life like before the day we met?"

The answer came without pause, "Rye don't remember. Rye first remory was the rirst day Rye saw roo."

"Huh."

The two settled in for the rest of the day and Norville had pretty much come down when he got home. His father was watching some basketball games on television and the family had a quiet Christmas night.

The next morning, Norville got up and went to the back porch to find Scooby waiting, as always. He pulled out the Gravy Train bag from the wooden storage cabinet in which they kept it away from rodents and other wildlife and dumped it into the big dog bowl. Also as normal, the dog immediately plowed into it and began gobbling up his primary meal of the day before Norville had finished pouring it in.

Norville was completely sober now and watched his dog who was now back to being a normal dog. He stroked Scooby's Back as the dog ate, "You know, Scooby. I know it was a hallucination and all but it was really cool to be able to talk with you yesterday. That conversation – fake or whatever – was my best Christmas present of the day. He put the dog food bag back into the storage bin and turned to head back into the house.

"Rank roo."

xXx

Merry Christmas from Glide