WRITING CHALLENGE #7

For this month's writing challenge, we will be getting in the festive spirit of summer!

Pick a memorable holiday or vacation that your character has gone on in their life, and write a scene from it.

As always, you can enter once per character and each entry will be one sickle each!

the tale of july twelve-twelver

writing challenge #8

CONTENT DISCLAIMER:
This is fictional as hell, and therefore not a true recollection of actual events, nor are any of the claims within it alleging to be true.  

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"Do you remember the tale of July Twelve-Twelver?" 

River's question rang through the air like a chime calling in some sort of wild nostalgia. Justin couldn't help but grin. Wide as ever with smoke slipping between his lips he grinned. "Hell yeah, man--" he said tossing his dingy white lighter on the coffee table. "That was the best trip ever!" River echoed him with a smile of his own growing.

This place was different but somehow every place was the same whenever he came called upon to tell the tale. This time it was Mac, River's new boy toy that begged the question: "July twelve-twelver? What was so great about it?"

"You just had to be there."

"Yeah, man, it was such a vibe."

"Such a vibe."

"No. No, I really want to know."

Justin chuckled. His gaze darting to River. This was always how it started. Different place, different people, same damn epic story. Same unsure and narrowed eyes looking back at the asker. "...Alright, fam. Alright. So this is a throwback from hell. I'm talking....What was it, Riv? Seven--?"

"Summer before seventh year," River corrected before he even had the chance to slip. 

"Right, right, right." Justin says with a shit eating grin and eyes nearly as red as the can of Budweiser beside his lighter. "So it's the summer before seventh year and I'm stuck on the 405, right? Heading into LA, four lanes at a standstill, fam. Mind you, we're driving.... Probably the oldest and ugliest piece of shit Geo Tracker in the world. I'm talking a '97 fucking Geo Tracker. This thing was... It was tiny, fam. In the front I've got Janelle riding shotty, and this long legged bastard in the back of this thing, not to mention fucking DJ and Kelsey too.

"We've easily been in this thing for ten hours at this point. We're ready to die. Got no AC, LA is hot as shit in the summer, but like... We were sixteen. Ain't none of us have a license to apparate because we're fucking losers, but hey-- I got a driver's license and a $500 fucking Geo that my Granny bought me for my birthday because she's a no-maj and a genuine fucking badass who thought her grandson might like to drive ACROSS THE GODDAMN COUNTRY. In a Geo Tracker. But it's cool because I'm feelin' bomb as fuck, right? Sixteen, on a road trip out to Cali to see UCLA because I'm getting THE FUCK OUT OF TEXAS! Y'know what I mean?

"But, yeah. We're all crammed into this sum'bitch and we've been stuck in traffic for what? Two hours?" 

River nods with a snort, "Two hourssssss."

"It's hot."

"So fucking hot."

"We ain't got no AC up in this hoopity."

"Nope."

"We sweatin'."

"Yup."

"And the worst part was--" Justin said, pointing at River.

"We smoke our last J 'bout an hour ago." Their words struck in unison, as did the eruption of giggles that followed. Justin drew in a quick puff from his cigarette before holding it out in examination. "And I mean, this fuckin' shit was stronger than the shit we had at the time."

"It was weak."

"Weak!" Justin bellowed in agreement. "So, yeah, there we were. Weedless. Hot. Fucking miserable. Something that's supposed to take us ten minutes is taking two goddamn hours. And there's not a damn thing we can do about it except crank up some tunes and hope this shit ends-- and that's when we see it."

"The holy grail."

"A car, car and a half, ahead of us we see the unmistakable hot box. And this car is nice. Like, hella nice. Especially compared to my Geo like we're talking fan-cy! And it's bumpin smokey windows so we're like-- hey, maybe not like....our socioeconomic status--"

"That is the lamest word ev--"

"Shut up, Riverto--"

"That's not my name."

"Riverino."

"Still...still not--"

"Anyways. This bitch richer than us, but homie we the same kind of people, y'feel me? So we're trying everything in our power to like inch up to this car. There's honking but like EVERYONE is honking, it's LA. We're up this Expedition's ass just tryin' to get along side this dude's car. So finally we pull up, we're practically touching mirrors at this point."

"He has no chill."

"I have no chill. Anyway, we can't see shit in these side mirrors they're tinted as shit but we're doing the good ol' fashioned roll down 'yer winder' maneuver," Justin said cranking his arm in little circles; his cigarette flailing with every jagged maneuver. "At this point I'm sketched. Like, this is LA. These windows are tinted. Maybe it's a celebrity. Maybe it's fucking Hugh Hefner. Maybe it's the fucking King of Lichtenstein. I'm fucking getting pumped. My heart is racing, I'm hoping for the best, but even in the worst case scenario my mind is still like....hopefully dude lets us get a toke, and finally this window starts going down. It was slow motion, man. Just like the movies. There's smoke pouring out. I felt like I was watching the trailer to a new movie called Weedman or something. It was epic. Couldn't get anymore epic-- but then it did. 

"This window is opening, wider and wider and suddenly I see the Hot Boxer. And you will Never. Fucking. Guess. Who was in the driver's seat, man."

The room fell quiet. Dead quiet. The only noise that remained was the sound of music in some far part of the house. If a mouse would have farted everyone would have known.

Justin scooched to the edge of his seat, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned in. No one ever believed this part. No one. That made it all the more fun each and every time he told it. 

"Arnnold fucking Schwarzenegger." 

Their little group erupted into protests. Nuh-uh's filled the quiet space and all Justin could do was look merrily at River. He didn't respond, not yet. He simply drew his cigarette to his lips, attempting a puff before realizing the damn thing had gone out during his story telling. Justin took up the lighter he had tossed down before.

"I can't lie, fam. I can't make this shit up!" He laughed as he shook the lighter. After a few attempts he managed to light his short again. "It was Arnold Schwarzeneggar, dude. The motherflippin' Governator!" Smoke billowed out and pooled into the air above him as he blew it out. Justin settled back into the couch propping his foot on his knee. More questioning protests came from around them, River's boy toy the loudest of course.

"He does not smoke weed," he pressed.

"Oh hell yeah he does, fam. Google that shit. Guarantee it because I've seen him do it! Like I said we pull up next to him and all this smoke is pouring out. I'm half out the window trying to wave him like 'hey man spread the love, give it a pass' thinking he'd be like fuck you kids, man. But then he starts waving me back! So I hopped out of the truck, Riv comes flying out of the backseat. I've never seen anyone In. My. Life. Get out of that Tracker faster. And that mother fucker has been on fire, my G. 

"So we all hop out and are crowding on his car in the middle of the 405 like a bunch of total assholes, but like...he's letting us hit and being hella nice. Like so fucking nice, it was unreal. He was asking us, like, what were we in town for. We were telling him that we were thinking about going to UCLA. Well, me and Janelle were. And he started straight doggin' on UCLA he was so funny. Just like 'that school is garbage'--" Justin laughed, absolutely murdering any sound impression of Arnold that there ever was. 

"He was telling us how his daughter actually goes to USC which, like, they are kind of rivals so of course he's got hella opinions. I was like oh for sure whatever Arnold says man I'm applying there. But...not really. I was pussy whipped, it's fine. But anyways we get to asking him what he's doing. He said he was going to the airport, flying to Bali and shit. And all this time like...the traffic has started kind of moving up ahead. So he says his peace and we say ours. Like, we were the most grateful fucking nerds ever. We just smoked up with the goddamn ex-Governer of California. 

"And this is the best part. I swear on my life. This fucking guy, this absolute legend, puts on his shades and deadass says to us-- he says:
Hasta la vista, baby.
Then he just drove off into the sunset. It was literally the best expirience I had ever had stoned, and probably even sober, in my entire life. Bar none."

"Bar. None." River echoed through a laugh.

Justin took one long final drag from his cigarette. "And that," he bobbled his head with a snarky matter of fact, grim still wide and smokey as ever, "Is the story of July twelve-twelver." He flicked the butt of his still lit cigarette at River with a cackle. River, of course, jumping up to avoid a burn and stringing a slew of curse words along with it.

"YOU DON'T ALWAYS HAVE TO END IT LIKE THAT." 

"Hell yeah I do, fam. Cuz that shit was fi-yaaa." Justin giggled, lurching forward to grab the beer he left sitting before him. "Hey....y'all ever hear the story about how I accidentally caught River and my Geo Tracker on fire?"

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRAPHY 2.0