A/N: What's up with me? I've had ridiculous papers on the effects of the Cold War, and my only primary source was my paranoid Republican neighbor. Go figure.

Something about cannabis that drove her senses wild. She placed her lips over the mouthpiece of the beautifully decorated glass bong, and for that split second before she sucked in the smoke into her lungs, something in the back of her mind told her that Reno was watching this.

Of course he was. Dude was born to watch reality television.

She pulled away and looked at the host. "Couldn't I do something else? Juggle cups? Do handstands? Freestyle rap about my straight black pubic hair?"

The audience laughed in unison. "Ah, ah, ah, Tifa. Today's Drug of the Day is Mari-"

"Pot, I know." She grumbled, and sighed, head bent and eyes misting over. Pot.

When was the first time she tried pot? With Reno. And that got her pregnant. Wait, should she be blazing up? She had a two-month old at home. Can you say diminished responsibility? What if, in about twenty years, he searched his mother's name on an internet search engine and found this video, clips of her back when Eco-Terrorism was the vogue, or even those pictures Cid took when she got drunk?

"Tifa!" Yuffie hissed from beside her, "Just hurry up so I can win a key lime pie!"

Gulping down all her worries, she roughly grabbed the bong and looked at the camera defiantly, knowing that Reno was watching, and to give him the message that she was a strong, independent woman who didn't give a fuck about the past.

Ramen, burnt cat hair, and piss. That's what the first few hits felt like as it burned a path down to her lungs. She coughed up a mouthful of smoke.

The studio audience was pleased. They cheered her on, as if she was some damned circus animal chugging cheap beer like a freshman frat boy. Henry was no different. She saw him, through her blurred vision after her fourth (or was it her fifth) hit, leering at her and smirking. Music was being played, its tempo frantic, causing mass hysteria in the back of Tifa's mind. Hearing color and seeing sound wasn't quite right, was it?

"Such garbage on TV." The bald man commented, twirling the petal-less rose's stem between his fingers, other arm around the couch's armrest.

Reno chuckled. "You haven't seen her when she gets high, man. She goes flippin' insane." He hid the sad emotion quite well for a broken man.

"A good insane, I'm hoping, with hair-pulling, tantrums, and demon possession."

She turned around to see Yuffie with her hand over her nose and Vincent looking at her with a displeased look oh his face.

"Yuffie? What's wrong?" She tried to say, but it only came out as an incoherent babbling mess.

Yuffie's face began to melt upwards, her facial expression turning into one of a Cheshire Cat. Vincent's ragged red cape grew eyes and a mouth, and it seemed to be blowing kisses in her direction.

The frantic music didn't make it much better. Her senses were being assaulted by a rapid-fire from the hormone gun. Her face flushed pink, and her breathing became heavy and labored.

The music faded out and it was Yuffie's turn to answer a question. Henry strolled casually up to her podium, leaning slightly on it and grinning. "Princess Yuffie-"

Tifa just acted purely on a selfish desire to release her newfound energy. She grabbed the front lapels of Henry's ghastly jacket and planted a feverish kiss on his chin, since she pulled too hard and she missed.

The force of their contact bruised her thin lips, causing them to swell. Henry had a moment to recover before Tifa ravished his mouth with her hot tongue, his awkward positioning over her podium slightly hurting him.

Vincent shook his head and walked off the show. Yuffie followed in hopes of winning a delicious pie.

Reno, Rude, and thousands of other people around the globe stared at their television screens with their mouths open.