"Damn shame," Ray told his best friend as he watched his ex-girlfriend's car drive away behind the U-Haul truck driven by her brother. It was a beautiful spring Friday on the block and the sun stood high in the clear noon sky so he quashed the desire to be cold and wave a snarky goodbye. Instead, he chose to be content that his experience with a narcissistic partner was over peacefully.
"Dude, are we talking across two different dimensions right now or something? If not, you gotta be delusional. Mike's been telling you for years that Lanii was toxic, and I for one, agree. Then there's Ethan, brother. That guy never has a cross word to say about anyone, he's like a fucking saint... but he does not like her, never did. She tried to suck the life out of you, man", his friend retorted.
"I know that, Rawn," Raiden sighed. "That's why I stopped fighting and let her draw her own conclusions every time she wanted to argue. I couldn't deal with it anymore. She chose to see it as me shutting her out... besides, sometimes you have to give someone a chance to change. Stand by someone you care about, yanno? Hell, The Railroad would have killed each other a long time ago if not for that, what with the way we four have had our heads up our asses at times."
The Brotherhood of the Railroad, or The Railroad, as they called themselves, consisted of the four friends: Michael Satko, Ethan Glade, Raiden Bane, and Arawn Stonebrook.
Arawn, or Rawn as his friends and what little family he had called him, reached up to pat his tall friend on the shoulder as he laughed. Ray was Raiden Bane, and the two had been friends since they could walk.
"True enough, I guess. Still, are you sure you're okay, buddy? She put you through one hell of a ringer...," Rawn asked his friend.
Ray gave him a smile and a nod.
"I'm good, man. Been good for a while, actually. What you guys have seen lately was the stress from just having to deal with her. Trust me, it was necessary. If I'd tried to openly drive her out, things would have gotten messy, quick. Letting her push her own self out the door over my intransigence was much easier, even if it was a lot more drawn out. I'm just glad it's over."
Rawn chuckled, "So what you're saying is that she called you a cold-hearted asshole so many times that you finally decided to actually be one?"
Raiden had an odd look on his face and shrugged, "...something like that."
Rawn nodded and sat down on Raiden's patio and pulled out a pair of emerald green cigars from a case in his pocket. They were about the size of a corona and he handed one to his friend. Ray examined the strange thing in his hand and immediately recognized the leaf used for the wrapper.
"Rawn, what the hell is this? It's wrapped in pot leaves..."
His best friend laughed and gave Ray a wry grin.
"That, my good man, is a hand-rolled cannabis cigar, wrapped in fresh picked leaf from plants of the same strain and cured to perfection in mason jars."
Ray smirked, "Read that on the jar at the dispensary, did you?"
"Nope," Rawn answered without hesitation. "Made 'em myself. I call them Cannapedoes. This would be a corona grade in a traditional cigar, and I also make them in churchill grade. These are made from strawberry diesel. I get a hundred and fifty bucks a stick for them at the dispensaries here in Detroit, they sell them for almost three hundred, and I'm the only one in Michigan who makes them right now. I'm getting requests from all the way up in the U.P., but there's too many hostile counties between us to chance the drive upstate."
Ray rolled his eyes and shook his head as he lit his friend's latest creation and put it to his lips. Doesn't taste bad at all, he thought to himself. Then he sat down next to Rawn and drew a mouthful of smoke and let it roll over his tongue. Damn, this tastes pretty nice. My buddy might be onto something here...
That would be his last coherent thought for the next half hour. When Raiden inhaled the smoke, it hit his lungs like a sledgehammer and triggered the worst coughing fit he had ever experienced. It felt like he had tried to inhale a dozen joints in a single puff, such was the concentration of the smoke, and his lungs just could not take it. His eyes bulged and tears poured down his cheeks from all four corners of his eyes as he struggled to suppress the cough and hold in the smoke. When his body escalated the fight, he sputtered and snickered each time his shoulders bucked with the convulsions of his lungs against his own stubborn resistance. Finally, he lost the battle and erupted into an unending cascade of coughs, wheezes, gasps, gags, and drool.
Rawn found the whole situation hilarious as he watched his friend cough himself cross-eyed and barely managed to suppress his laughter. When Ray could breathe well enough to speak again, Rawn decided to apologize.
"Sorry about that," he snickered, "There's a lot of weed in those things, they weigh almost half an ounce. It doesn't stop with dry herb, either."
Rawn's friend looked a question at him as he wheezed to catch his breath, so he explained further... "The bud inside is dipped in liquid resin and allowed to cure three separate times before it is ground, mixed with kief from the same strain to keep it from being too sticky, and finally rolled. No glue on the leaves, either, just more resin to hold them in place."
Ray backhanded Rawn's arm and scowled while he finished collecting himself.
"Fucker...," Raiden croaked at his former-friend and wiped his face on a handkerchief from his breast pocket, "Warn a man next time, you sneaky bastard. I thought it was just a fancy blunt!"
Ray had flopped onto his back to rest for a moment after he slapped Rawn's arm. When he finally sat up again, he instantly regretted it. His hands clutched the sides of his head while the whole world wibbled and wobbled about his field of vision.
"Jesus Christ, Rawn! Are you sure that's all you did to that thing? Put it out unless you want some, I'm already deep-fried to a crisp! Talk about a one-hit-wonder..."
