CHAPTER 22: POINT BREAK, PART 2

Connection is the core component to all human interaction. From the closest ties of a family, to the looser ties of friendship, to the brief intertwinings of acquaintances, there does not go a day when human beings are forced to interact with one another, cooperating with one another to see their lives continue on as normal.

The connections built up over the years can often be eroded by separation and time, in need of repair. These disconnections are but minor signs of wear, and are fixable as quickly as they come. This is true for friendships, and sometimes even for more intimate connections such as relationships between lovers and marriages...

...but, ironically enough, for family, the closest of connections there can be, the erosion of connection can be the most difficult to amend. When love and trust is invested so much and so deeply within another person, even the slightest betrayal makes the upsetting of emotion all the more destructive; the more a balloon is filled, the more is released from it if the balloon were to break.

Ray Rocket has tried time and time again to try to mend the broken relationship that he and his son, Otto Rocket, to no success. He has misplaced his love in an attempt to help his son lead a more productive life, and, in turn, achieve a more rewarding and satisfying one, but it had only pushed to estrange the two further away.

But no longer. After a long talk with his wife, he was now determined to speak to Otto once again, and this time make no more errors in the effort to mend their relationship as father and son. He is far beyond determined to make their problems a thing of the past, and move forward to peace and love once again.

Unfortunately, Otto Rocket nor anyone else is present at his home, leaving no chance for Ray for him to speak to his son on this day. This was a fact not known to Ray or Noelani, the latter of whom began heading towards the house, driving to the front to park the car.

As the car rolled to a steady halt, placed into park after, Ray let out a deep breath, preparing himself to finally make things right with his son as planned. He has made plenty of lines and preplanned dialogue to get his point across effectively, but the chance to implement his efforts are met with nervousness and fear, carrying an anxiety that he will once again push the two further away.

Noelani, trying her best to be supportive of Ray, gave as much encouragement as she could provide before he went through with his deed, laying her hand on his.

"It's okay, honey. I'm right here." Noelani said.

"I know, I'm fine." Ray said.

The two then stepped out of the car, heading to the front door of the house. Ray is the one to ring the doorbell, anxiously awaiting an answer from his son or anyone else after pressing the button. After a few minutes of waiting, no one came to answer the door, leaving Ray continuing to stand at the house's entrance alone with his wife.

Ray rang the doorbell again, still hoping that someone would come and answer the door. After another period of waiting, it became obvious that no one was home, and Ray had been denied his opportunity to reconcile with his son again. He lowered his head in frustration at his own self-perceived failure, with Noelani reaching her hand to comfort him.

"Don't worry, honey, he's just not home right now. We can come back another time." Noelani said.

"Damn it." Ray cursed.

"Ray, don't be upset. He's just not home, he'll be back, and you'll be able to talk with him another time. I know you wanted to talk as soon as possible, and it's very sweet, but-"

"I needed this now, Noelani. Otto's my son. You don't just wait for the right time to talk to your family. It's your number-one priority, like you're dealing with a World War II level threat, you gotta take care of it right then and there."

"Ray, you're being too hard on yourself. You're too great a person and too great a father to do this to yourself."

"Why shouldn't I be hard on myself? I was hard on him this whole time, look where it got us."

Noelani remained silent in shame, fearing that her actions had been some unforgivable wrong, to which Ray responded to with his own reassurances.

"No, no, Noelani, don't worry. Just... Just let me do this, okay? Just... Just let me get this out here so I can feel a little better." Ray said.

Ray then turned back to the door, facing the closed entrance to the house as if he were facing Otto. Letting out one last deep breath, he said, pretending to speak to Otto...

"Hi, Otto. I know you don't want to talk to me right now, or maybe not at all anymore, but I wanna tell you something. You're right. You are right. I shouldn't butt myself into your life, trying to tell you how to live. I'm sorry. I wanted you to be successful, to be better than me, but I couldn't see that it's not about what I want. It's about what you want. It's about living your life how you wanna live it. I wasn't respectful of that. I tried to go around your passions, rather than work with them. I ignored your strengths and didn't help you find away to use your talents in a way that helped you. I'm sorry. I tried to push you away from your passions and tried to push you to be something you're not. I wasn't supportive of you and your own decisions. I punished you when I should've had a talk with you about how to deal with your problems instead, to give you advice on what to do in hard times. I took the easy way out as a parent. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all of it. I just want you to know, whatever happens, whether you 'make it' or not, you have my full support on whatever you want to do with your life, no matter what. I'll always do my best to make you the best person I know you can be. Not because I want something out of you, but because I'm here to make you the best person you can be, because that's my job as your dad. I love you, son." Ray said.

After letting out his emotional rant, speaking it directly to his own projection of Otto to seek some temporary relief from his anger, he found none of it. The effort he made is less than a placebo, his uncured sadness leading him to shed a few tears after delivering his heart-wrenching speech. Once again, Noelani tried her best to comfort him in his state of depression, rushing to help him right away.

"Ray..." Noelani started to say.

Attempting to reach her arms around him, Ray shook her off to head back to the car.

"Forget it, Noelani, let's just go home. You're right, I can't do anything until he gets back. I did all I could right now." Ray said.

Following his request, the two got back in the car and began their drive back home. As the ride continued on, Ray sat in morose silence for the entire trip, beginning to believe that his son was intentionally not answering the door in a fit of anxious thoughts, leaving him without a chance to apologize, and, worse yet, having a son not interested in an apology.

For the rest of the ride, Ray did not speak a single word, not even looking in Noelani's direction during the trip.

Once upon a time, the humble skate park known as Madtown was a cornerstone of life in Ocean Shores, acting as the central location for all skaters to come together and partake in their favorite sport. It was vital to many a youth of the city, and one of many vital sources of income for the town that kept it afloat.

Alas, like the best of small businesses in all hardships, a big fish in a shallowing pond, the skate park was soon swallowed up by the bigger fish of large businesses, coming in the form of Zero Gravity Zone. Offering not only several different skating arenas, all with cinematic themes, repair shops, and the comfort of air conditioning, the business for Madtown disappeared overnight.

Its owner, Conroy Blank, had opened the park in hopes of fulfilling a dream, and did get to live it for quite some time, but that dream was stolen from him and ripped out from under him, forcing him to close down and seek somewhere else to find a profession and living. He left behind a beloved skate park and the kids who grew up in his park, but took with him the many memories of better days, hoping that others did the same.

Twister is one a few of those left who still remember, clinging onto the past in hopes of retaining some of his identity and culture. Returning to the park, crawling under the fencing, he comes back looking for a place of comfortable solitude, needing somewhere quiet and familiar to sort out his own internal troubles.

Left untouched and unused by anyone else since its closing, the park is physically no different than when it last opened, as if it were stuck in some state of limbo or put into a time capsule to be preserved for future generations to explore. The setting is all the better for Twister to clear his mind, no different than if he was returning to a childhood home.

Sitting alone inside the park, hoping to be away from his problems, Twister only has them catch up to him, swirling around his mind and bringing pain to his brain, and subsequently his body. The pain and anxiety began to overwhelm him to a point where he needed to lay back on the ground, hoping that a complete lack of movement would cure his ails.

It only partially helps his physical pains, but not his mental ones, nor the thoughts that facilitated them.

While many believed that Otto and Twister were inseparable as friends, this day proves that this was no longer a fact, and things between the two were far tenser than ever without any sign of recovery. It is a rare situation which Twister is in, and never before has he contemplated being here, nor that would he ever be in.

He has followed Otto through life as more than a best friend, accompanying him to nearly the ends of the Earth in all his endeavors. It seems almost as if he was attached to him at the hip, either like a husband or a conjoined twin, but that connection has built up into something like a dependency; rarely has Twister had his own independent thoughts and plans, and only with his best friend of Otto has he had some direction.

Not knowing what to do without his best friend, Twister found himself not knowing what to do.

Needing to find something to vent his frustrations on, Twister closed his eyes began to sing traditional Mexican folk songs to himself, choosing Agustin Lara's Solamente una vez. Despite the large and frequent amounts of marijuana Twister smokes, it seems that it has no effect on his singing ability, still sounding as good as before even when out of practice.

"Solamente una vez,

Ame en la vida,

Solamente una vez,

Y nada mas,

Una vez nada mas,

En mi huerto,

Brillo la esperanza,

La esperanza que alumbra el camino,

De mi soledad..." Twister sang.

As Twister began to find a moment of peace to himself, an unexpected visitor came in his midst, subtly approaching with only his presence known by light footsteps. Silencing his own singing to lean back his head and look upon who his visitor was, he had light hopes that it would be Otto Rocket, only to see it was...

"Oh, my god, you fucking faggot. You still sing that pussy shit at 25? What are you, a Backstreet Boy? Or, no, in your case, it's more like a 'Backdoor Boy', am I right?" Lars asked.

...the sociopathic Lars Rodriguez, the firstborn and elder brother to Twister. On his shirt was the word 'GAY' in large letters, with words protruding from each letter to form a backronym of the larger word, spelling out the demeaning and homophobic phrase: 'Got AIDS Yet?'.

Remembering his brother as the connection responsible for Team Rocket to uncover the mass conspiracy with Alex Gravity and the rogue skaters, Twister's dislike for his brother turns to rage in his presence. How comedic that, after much time spent to try to find him, Lars simply appeared to one member of the group, actively seeking him out on his own accord.

No comedy is found on the event by Twister, who instead got up from his resting place and immediately stood up to his older brother.

"Lars!" Twister shouted.

"Yeah, bitch. Were you expecting a fucking strippergram? Because I sure was." Lars said.

Twister, wasting no time to stop his brother from committing any more heinous acts, jumped on Lars, repeatedly punching him in the face. The attack is not a particularly strong one nor an effective one, and it is more than easily fended off by Lars' robotic arm, but it is nonetheless an annoyance for him to deal with.

"Ow, ow, hey, c'mon, man, knock it off!" Lars said.

"No way! I'm gonna take you in myself, and I'm gonna beat the bad guys, just like Otto was supposed to do! I'm gonna show him that I'm smart and I'm strong, too, and I'll save the day and make Ocean Shores better again!" Twister shouted.

"The fuck are you babbling about, retard? Settle the fuck down!"

Receiving Lars' metallic hand to his face, Twister was subsequently pushed down to the ground by it, looking up to see it changed to its machine gun form. The rage is still present, his bravery still putting his own personal priorities before his self-preservation instincts, but a fast heartbeat and faster breath show a clear and present fear of the weapon put before him.

"You wouldn't really shoot me." Twister said.

"Oh, wouldn't I? Who was it again that whomped on your bitch ass plenty of times when we were still kids?" Lars asked.

"You're still my brother. I doubt you'll go that far."

"You really willing to bet your life on that, fag?"

"I remember back at the ravine when you thought I fell off and bought it. That's when you bought all of us burritos at the gas station. I got the whole thing on camera."

Lars seemed to take into account the facts brought up, but showed no signs of lowering his arm. Looking back at Twister, his eyes locked into his brother's, he also saw no signs of hesitation or weakness in them, putting the two Mexican brothers at a Mexican standoff of wits and strength.

And the only way to resolve a Mexican standoff is to call a temporary truce, which Lars does by abruptly changing his arm back to normal.

"Well, you're right about one thing. I'm not actually here to kill you. Not because of your whole brotherly love bullshit, but because I figured you might want some help." Lars said.

"And why the hell should I want your help? And what kind of help do you think you have that I want or need? And another thing, how'd you know I'd be here?" Twister asked.

"Oh, I heard that you and Otto had some kind of breakup or some shit. I figured you'd probably come here after that, you and the Rocket Dork having some fucking psychic connection with this Madtown, or something. As for what I'm offering you, and why you'll like it... Well... How'd you like to get back at your boyfriend for all the shit he put you through?"

The offer is one that is instantly intriguing to the depressed Twister, and, even though his intellect is not good enough to recognize the offer as one that might prove destructive towards himself in other ways, it is good enough to question what motives might be behind the offer.

"What's in it for you?" Twister asked.

"I want revenge on that asshole, too. He made me lose my arm. This new one might be pretty nice, but having an arm you were born with and grew up with ripped the fuck right out of your shoulder hurts like shit, and I ain't too thankful for that. That, and I get a little help that the other guys wouldn't give me with a little fun." Lars said.

Remembering that he displayed his new robotic arm already to Twister, and noticing his lack of surprise or need to mention it, Lars aroused that very topic.

"Hey... You know, you didn't seem all that surprised when I showed this thing off. You didn't even comment on how I was supposed to lose the other one. What's the matter, are you so fucking stupid that you forgot how to react to weird shit?" Lars asked.

"Otto told me about the arm already. He also told me about the whole plot you guys have on trying to destroy Ocean Shores so Alex Gravity can have it. If what you're offering is trying to get me in on it, I'm not gonna do it, so forget it." Twister said.

"And I know you and Sam and Reggie sent him in as a spy to try to stop it. But, then again, how did I know about the whole thing going on between you and Otto? Maybe he ain't a spy for your ass anymore. Maybe he's just a spy for us at this point."

The counterpoint to Twister's arguments gave him pause, attempting to decipher what approach to this situation is the most moral.

"What are you trying to tell me? What is this?" Twister asked.

"I told you, it's a chance to get back at your butt-buddy. At the same time, you'd be helping me with a little unapproved mission of my own. You get something, I get something. That's, like, the whole foundation of economics." Lars said.

"But I'd still be helping you and Alex Gravity and his skaters. Why should I do that?"

"Because you're sad and lonely and bored. Now, I might never get sad, because I'm not an emo pussy bitch, but I do get a little bored every now and then, and I tend to be without someone to fuck or fuck with, so I guess that qualifies as 'lonely', too. And when that happens, I get stir-crazy, and I need to do something to fix that. Sometimes, you just gotta go out and do something. Sometimes, you just gotta say: 'Fuck it'."

Lars extended his hand for a handshake, waiting for Twister to meet it. In response, Twister, torn between various internal conflicts, attempted to clarify and understand his own feelings and interests, looking at his brother's hand with uncertainty and confusion.

Mostly guided by another, more willful person for most of his life, he has had little chance or opportunity to take advantage of a time to stand for himself. Only moments ago on this day did he find the strength to stand up to Otto, and he has had no other way to find guidance and leadership to know what to do with his independence.

The only choice he has before him is not one that he likes... but it is the only one he has to choose from.

Finally, after rashly resolving his inner debate, Twister met Lars' handshake with a firm grasp, creating an alliance with him based on the shaky ground of anger.

"Alright, then... fuck it." Twister said.

Lars smiled widely in response, already beginning to foresee what misdeeds he could coerce his brother into committing.

"Just what I wanted to hear." Lars said.

"So what are we gonna do?" Twister asked.

"Well, bro... you up for a trip to Good Burger?"

The rest of Team Rocket have their own agenda to fulfill concurrent to the previous events, and just as significant to the agenda of Alex Gravity and the Rippers.

Sam, Reggie, and Tito rest outside of the home address of the Rippers that Otto provided, the eponymous team and their leader resided inside. Being poorly educated skaters with destructive tendencies towards themselves and others, their hedonistic traits are fed with a house party, featuring untold amounts of alcohol, more drugs than an entire Mexican cartel, and many, many attractive (and quite unintelligent) women.

The spectacle of debauchery is all caught on binocular and camera by Sam and Reggie, who sit in the car of the latter. They are parked just outside the household, on the edge of the sidewalk outside the home, keeping an unsuspecting and inconspicuous appearance as not to attract the attention of those inside the house.

Silently observing the home, they hope to catch evidence of the Rippers in action, and in turn, use that to stop the continued destruction and mayhem all about Ocean Shores. While partaking in their task, the group all chowed down on hotdurgers made especially by Tito, washed down with Yahoo Soda to keep themselves fueled and awake for the job at hand.

The wait inside the car, however, is one that the three found the biggest challenge to overcome, as typical of many stakeouts, trying to fend off impatience and boredom. The hotdurgers are an excellent distraction against the quiet and the inactivity, and so is the small talk behind them.

"Mmm... Mmm-mmm-mmm... Tito, these things are just as good as I remember. No, they might just be even better." Sam said.

"Yeah, they're really yummy. Thanks, Uncle Tito." Reggie said.

"You're welcome, little cuzes. Ain't no way Good Burger could ever top a home-cooked meal, especially not from a fry cook of over 30 years."

"Did you bring your grill from home to make these?" Sam asked.

"No, I used Otto and Twister's grill after I cleaned it off. A lot of what I cleaned out of it looked like burned leafs."

"Leafs? Were they really so bad at cooking that they tried to start a fire with leafs? God, no wonder they couldn't get their shit together." Reggie groaned.

"No, no, no, cuz. I don't mean leafs, I mean leafs. They tried to cook with some Mary Jane. And it looks like they failed at that. It looked like they wasted a few pounds of it, at least. A total waste and a total shame."

"You can cook with marijuana?" Sam asked.

"Oh, yeah. I do it all the time. Makes everything taste better, almost like pineapple. I'd give you some recipes, but I keep forgetting them when I'm done."

The final comment from Tito got a laugh from the group, who then returned to their burgers enthusiastically.

After scarfing down their burgers, however, the group instantly fell into an awkward silence, having no other immediate topic of conversation nor activity to fulfill. Boredom once again sets in among the three, and they are forced yet again to try to find some way to pass the time.

"Reggie, how long exactly does this kind of thing take?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, Sammy. For all I know, they might not leave home at all." Reggie said.

"So, can't do nothing but just sit here for several hours?" Tito asked.

"That's pretty much all we can do, Tito. Stakeouts are all about sitting and waiting for something to happen. When something does happen, you're right there to get it in the act."

"Wow. You sound like you know what you're doing, little cuz. You do a lot of this kind of work for the newspaper back in the day?"

"I wish. Nothing's been important enough in this town in years to do anything worth it. Celebrity tabloid magazines and paparazzi did more stakeouts than us. Personally, I've been waiting for a moment like this for a long, long time. About time I get some excitement."

"Reggie Rocket, the hard-hitting journalist. I can already see the Pulitzer Prize on your desk after this, little cuz."

"Aw, no, Tito, this isn't much, really."

"No, I mean it, you're very passionate about what you do. I always love to see my cuzes happy with what they do."

"He's right, Reggie, you really are good at this kind of stuff. You're like a Jimmy Olsen with breasts." Sam interjected.

The awkward comment brought silence to the inside of the car, none knowing how to comment on Sam's remark, and Sam himself gaining some embarrassment out of his apparently fumbled attempt at a compliment. Quickly thinking of something to try to distract from the mistake he made, he spoke out the first idea that came to his head.

"Uh, you know, Tito, I'm getting kind of hungry. You think you can order us a pizza somewhere and bring it back to the car?" Sam asked.

"Order a pizza? Cuz, you just ate. You really still hungry?" Tito asked.

"Yeah, well, uh... All this journalism work is making me extra hungry, you know?"

Adding her support to Sam's idea, Reggie joined in to give her reasoning to endorse the suggestion.

"Actually, Tito, I'm still kind of hungry, too. There's a good pizza place about a half-hour drive from here... or maybe longer. You think you could take your car and... you know... go get us the pizza while we wait?" Reggie asked.

Tito then began to read another intention underneath Reggie's request, finally coming to understand the reason for his requested absence.

"Oh... I get it. Sure, cuz, who am I to deny some growing young men and women pizza? I'll be back in about an hour. You two have fun, alright? Good luck." Tito said.

As Tito stepped out of the car, the car began to rise up off the ground to a proper suspension again. From having the enormous body weight of Tito Makani relieved from its body, the car seemed to sigh in relief as its metal groaned and formed back into its proper shape.

With Tito gone, Sam and Reggie were now left alone as planned, creating an awkward tension between the two, and necessitating the need for talk again.

"Pretty smooth thinking with that pizza line." Reggie said.

"Huh?" Sam asked.

"The pizza thing. Smart way to try to get us alone. Tito would've been fine either way, but I appreciate the effort."

"What? I wasn't trying to do anything, I'm just really hungry."

Reggie felt both a slight disappointment with Sam's correction and surprise at his true intentions, looking back with a confused face.

"Really? Dude, you just ate. How are you hungry enough for pizza already?" Reggie asked.

"I don't know, I'm just really unusually hungry all of a sudden. I think the burger actually made me more hungry than usual somehow." Sam said.

"That's weird. Well, honestly, I'm still kind of hungry, too, so I guess I could go for a little. If anything, we'll be able to snack on it a bit while we wait."

"Yeah, yeah. That works."

The mood once again turned to awkward silence, leaving the two trying to find another conversation to share.

"So, uh... This is gonna be a long few hours, I guess, huh?" Sam asked.

"That's how stakeouts go. Best thing you can do, just sit back and relax. Something'll happen eventually." Reggie said.

"Yeah, right."

Sam once again turned to an awkward silence, not knowing what to say to Reggie. Conversely, Reggie was waiting in expectation of Sam to speak and say something, anything that might linger on his mind, but his current body language of having his head faced down and his hands shuffling together showed he had no intention of doing so.

"You okay, Sammy?" Reggie asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay, are you okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. It's just... Well, you're not saying anything."

"Sorry. It's just... Well... I... don't really have anything to say."

"Well, say anything. The first thing that's on your mind. It doesn't matter, just lay it all out there, spread eagle, ass up, face down, however you want to lay it."

Reggie's snarky comment got a chuckle from Sam, but he once again returned to silence, as if scared or ashamed of his own action.

"Sammy, what's wrong? You're acting so skittish and scared." Reggie said.

"I'm sorry, it's just... Uh... Listen... about the other day, in the garage... and, uh... everything that's happened since..." Sam began to say.

"What? Are you... ashamed of it or something? Do you regret it?"

"No, no, no, no, no! Not at all! I loved it. I love all of it, really. It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Uh... You don't think... we're, uh... going too fast, do you?"

"Do you think we're going too fast?"

"I don't know. I... I just haven't really had much experience in this area. Like... none at all."

"None at all?"

"No. I was always busy at my store. This is all kind of weird. I mean, I know we've known each other for a long time, but we've only just been friends again for a few days."

"Do you want this to stop?"

"No! That's not at all what I'm saying!"

"Then... what exactly do you want?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I need some approval, or something. Just so I know I'm not doing something wrong."

"Well, I can personally vouch that you're doing just fine. Don't worry so much, okay, Sammy?"

"Okay, okay. Uh, how much experience have you, you know, had?"

"Are you asking me about my body count?"

"Body count?"

"How many people I slept with?"

Sam's nervousness now spiked into full-blown panic, conserving himself and immediately backtracking on his comments.

"NO! No, no, no, no! I did not mean to pry into anything that private at all!" Sam asked.

"Sammy, I don't care, you can ask me that. But I haven't slept with anybody." Reggie said.

"Really?"

"Nope. I mean, I dated a few guys here and there, but never had anything serious."

"Huh. Okay, uh..."

"What about you?"

"Me? I haven't been with anybody. Always too busy at the store. I guess you could say I was married to my-"

As the conversation began to fumble and fall on itself again, Reggie and Sam began to feel strange, not knowing what was wrong with themselves. Their minds were in a strange state of lack of concentration, not able to fully focus on any train of thought. Being stuck in a car without the air conditioning turned on was no help, either.

"Reggie... Is it just me, or it is kind of hot in here?" Sam asked.

"I... I think it is. I'm starting to feel woozy. I'm gonna turn on the A/C." Reggie said.

Starting the car and cranking the air conditioning to its full power, both her and Sam indulged in the cold air in attempt to stave off the sudden discomfort and delirium that began to set upon them. Living in California, the two automatically assume that the feeling its attributable to the sun and heat...

...but Sam began to recognize the feeling from another place, and began asking to identify it properly.

"You don't have any weed in here, do you?" Sam asked.

"What? No, I don't smoke. Why?" Reggie asked.

"I only felt like this when I was high for the first time the other night. At least, when the initial hysteria started to lower, but I don't know what could've-"

As Sam began to ponder what could be causing their state of mind, he had a minor flashback to the hotdurgers that Tito had cooked, remembering the fact that they were cooked on Otto and Twister's grill, and the fact that several pounds of marijuana were nearly baked into the grill itself.

"Oh, crap." Sam said.

"What? What happened?" Reggie asked.

"How many of those hotdurgers did you eat?"

"I think 3 or 4. They were really good, why?"

"I think they might have had weed in them. Tito said Otto and Twister tried to burn marijuana in their grill, and Tito cooked the hotdurgers in the grill."

"But he said he cleaned it out."

"But considering how filthy Otto and Twister's house is, and how much effort it took all of us to clean it, what are the odds he got it all?"

Sam's points then began to converge to a conviction, fully assuring the two of the reason behind their current state of mind.

"So, we're both high. Great. This isn't going to be easy. I've never done journalism while high before. I've never gotten high before. Hell, I've never even done a stakeout before."

"Hang on, let's not panic just yet. There couldn't have been too much pot in the grill, so we probably won't be high for long, or maybe not high enough to get distracted from the mission. This might not change anything." Sam said.

"I don't know, Sammy, my head's starting to feel a little dizzy now. My eyelids are getting heavy, too."

"Well, crap. I can't believe that Otto and Twister would do something stupid that would bite us in the ass now."

"Uh... Sammy, that's what they always do."

"Well, yeah, but... I mean... This is just kind of a weird scenario. Who'd of thought that trying to cook with marijuana would affect us now, on a stakeout?"

"True."

"You know, you have really nice boobs."

Reggie gave Sam a surprised look at the sudden non-sequitur of words that came out of his mouth, and Sam himself turned a beet red as well.

"What?" Reggie asked.

"Your boobs, you know, your boobs. I like them, they're nice. That's where the whole Jimmy Olsen joke I said came from. I like your butt too, your legs, your hips, it all looks great." Sam said.

After realizing what he had just said under the influence of the hemp in his food, Sam began to find himself completely embarrassed and shocked that such words would come out of his own mouth. Like a child feeling shame over a horrible mistake putting them in trouble with their parents, Sam put his face in his hands and groaned in embarrassment.

"Reggie, I am so sorry, I don't know why I said that. I think it was the weed. I think the stuff's like a truth serum, I shouldn't have said that, I really shouldn't have said that." Sam groaned.

Rather than lay into Sam for his comments, Reggie began to giggle at his flustered state, her high taking away all her inhibitions and feelings of conduct.

"It's okay, Sammy, it's okay if you like my body." Reggie said.

"I-It is?" Sam asked.

"Well, yeah. I mean, if you and I are supposed to be together, then that eventually means you and I become boyfriend and girlfriend. If you and I become boyfriend and girlfriend, then you're supposed to have sex eventually, and that means you'd have to kind of like each other's bodies, right? God, I'm starting to sound like Twister, or something."

"Well, no, I mean... Like I said, I guess I just need some approval. I guess that counts. Thank you."

"I actually kind of like your body too."

Reggie's response began to excite Sam, leading him to continue the conversation with great enthusiasm rather than fear.

"R- Really? You do?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. You got into way better shape than before. You have way more muscle on you. Way more fit." Reggie said.

"But... I'm still a little chubby."

"Nothing wrong with a little padding. If women can have it, why not guys? If I wanna sleep with somebody, I don't wanna sleep on some hard plank of plywood, I wanna cuddle with a soft and sweet teddy bear."

"I never thought of it like that. That does kind of make sense."

"Do you wanna fuck me?"

The next question then made Sam's excitement turn to anxiety, pushing his heart rate to its fastest and his breathing near hyperventilation. A reptilian instinct in his brain prompted an immediate 'YES' in his head, but rational thinking and caution to unfamiliar situations led him to hesitate, sitting in contemplative silence before asking...

"What?! Ar- are you-?" Sam stammered.

"C'mon, Sammy. Don't be so bashful. You were saying just a second ago how much you liked me, don't you want it for yourself? Like I said, if we're gonna be boyfriend and girlfriend, we got to get to this point eventually."

"I... uh... uh..."

"Do you wanna fuck me or not, Sammy? I'm getting really horny now."

"YES!"

Acting on pure animal instinct, immediately responding to the green light for intimacy, Reggie jumped on top of Sam and began unbuckling his pants as he began removing her shirt, starting an activity between the two to help relieve the tension that the marijuana was building between them.

The quick start to the connection leads to nowhere near a quick finish, leading to a long distraction from the more important task at hand.