One Splutter, Maybe Two

I taught Sam how to smoke joints. He's never smoked before in his life, come over to the dark side Sam. I laughed to myself, that must be a record, what is it, two weeks? Then I say after that, what am I talking about, I've never had a non-smoker before, all who come before him came pre-broken in potwise.

I wasn't going to mention it again, after I found out he'd never smoked before. I didn't think is was the healthiest thing to do to someone new in your life, just weeks after meeting. But, you know, I got pot for the long weekend, just a one off treat, you understand. We weren't going out any where all weekend. And Sam was keen.

He took to it like a duck to water. One splutter, maybe two. He kept saying that he didn't feel anything, so I just kept feeding it to him, one puff at a time. You can always have more, and you don't want to go to too much, oops, vomit. Trust me. The only thing he has to compare it to is e's two years ago. Maybe he thought it would be more. I kept saying to him it's not called the chill out drug for nothing, you know.

He fucked like a stoned boy, for hours and intently, not too many hours later. In the morning too, not normally my favourite, but he seemed keen.

He told me not to have any more, as I reached for the mull bowl in the morning, so, you see, still a little catholic boy guilt. Not a total lush, although... he said he liked it.