No xombies and vampirestats.

It had all started out simply. He was supposed to head down to the couch. He was meeting friends there. Clay was one of them. Clay had the hookup. It hadn't really dawned on Lance before, but Clay was probably the genesis of these locations. they were places that his dad was probably building. In fact, if Clay had known anything about law, he would have realized that Clay's father had advised him to go there because it was still private property, so there'd be more for the family lawyer to play around with if and when the cops busted them. Anyway, there they were, at a cul-de-sac in a new development  suburban to the capitol. It was black tar that smelled new and warm, with brownie crumbles splashed up over the cement gutter that walled the black pond in from the pine and oak forest that had been bulldozed for new development. They met there over the course of 15 minutes, slowly forming rank as they were able to get there. Hillary opened the hatch to clay's Golf and removed Black Betty, clay's homemade PVC water bong. It was white, but he already had a moby dick, so he opted for the misnomer. Black betty was mush shorter than Moby Dick too. Moby Dick was an early attempt, so he worked in the macro in order to make things easier. Black Betty squeezed into the side compartment for the lug-wrench and car jack so perfectly that she was almost unnoticeable. Lance was third to hit, he wasn't sure, with this many people, how far the bag would stretch, so he took a hard pull that filled his lungs. He sucked as fast as possible, so that people wouldn't notice that he was bogarting it. They noticed, but didn't care. Before Lance knew it, the bong was passed back into his hands and another pull. After three hits, Lance was feeling dizzy. He'd smoked a lot of bowls, but never felt this way. He was increasingly dizzy. He asked Clay if he could sit down in his back seat. "Sure man -wow! you're pale! are you going to throw up?!"
"No, I'm just dizzy. I'm gonna lie down." And he did. The golf continued to rotate around him like a bearing on an axle, but it slowed down eventually. They drove to the mall afterward and were going to watch a movie, but first they stopped at Chick-fil-a for some food. Dan said, "Dude Lance, you look rough, I'm gonna buy you a value meal." Lance looked up from the table he'd been staring at in order to get it to hold still with him and stop the mall from pivoting. "Thanks Dan." "Dude, you want a chicken sandwich?" "Sure."
In a few minutes Dan brought the bag over. Lance dumped it out on the table and promptly vomited in the bag. Increasingly annoying because he'd never heard of someone ODing on weed. In fact, he'd read it was impossible. Even Chuck Palaniuk knew better.