Anthony Johnston

Literacy Narrative

Before I begin this tale of debauchery, I have to give you somewhat of a preface.
Originally Im from Florida, but my mom in all of her wisdom decided to move away from
Florida when I was about fourteen. Of all the stupid ass places in the world to live in, she
decided on the small town of High Point, North Carolina. I met a friend during my time at High
Point Central HS, his name was Nate. Nate and I became to an extent what some would call
brothers. Eventually I was allowed to meet his mother and stepfather, this led to me being very
close with Nate and generally everyone in his neighborhood. Fast forward about two years into
my junior year; my mom got a job offer for an amount of money that was far more than what she
was making. The only problem was that the position was in Florida, and I had done some pretty
amazing things with my high school career in North Carolina.
Me and Nate came up with an idea that would ultimately lead to our demise. Since I had
become very close with Nate and his family, they saw me as the golden child. The child that was
amazing in his studies and could do no wrong. What they didnt know is that occasionally me
and Satan tend to have the same characteristics, but I digress. The idea was pitched to Nates
mom and she immediately agreed to take responsibility for a child that was not her own. It was at
this point that we should have turned the bus around and vetoed that idea before it was passed.
Hindsight is always 20/20.
Among other things, me and Nate shared a very unique passion for marijuana. This led us
to sometimes sneak out onto Nates patio in the backyard and smoke the occasional blunt or two.
Wed never gotten caught before of course. Hindsight is always 20/20. Anyhow, it was one of the

nicest days I had ever even seen in North Carolina. There wasnt a cloud in the sky, Id seen a
cardinal in a bush, and most importantly Nates parents were gone for the day. If you can do
basic addition you know what plan of action this led to. We woke up around noon and surveyed
the area for any signs of parental activity. After doing our daily rounds, Nate made a phone call
to his mother asking what time she would be home. She said, I wont be home until about
eight. That was a goddamn lie.
At this point in time a decision was madeto hit the weed man up. As I was in the
shower before going to attain the said cannabis in question, I had a feeling that we should just
hotbox in Nates car like we usually do. Of course my dumbass didnt listen. I threw on a t shirt
and gym shorts, and we were off to see the wizard. The trip to the weed mans domicile was a
weird one. We had to drive from the suburbs of Westchester through the industrial district and
finally into the slums of the southside. Me being from Florida though, I was accustomed to
poverty stricken areas commonly referred to as ghettos. Nate had grown up there with his
grandmother while his mother was away in college. Rest in peace to Ms. Cary. As was the usual
case anyhow, we pulled up to the weed mans place commonly referred to as a trap house, and I
entered and greeted the kind sir. What you need big dog, the weed man said, I replied with,
Shit I just need a G right now homie, he retorted and said, No problem homie. And just like
that me and Nate had acquired the said substance.
Once we got back to Nates house we had come to an alarming realization, we had
forgotten to buy a pack of cigars. In an almost magical sense though, my friend Lavan was
calling me. Yo what you doin bruh, he asked me, not shit, im tryna smoke but we aint got no
wrap, I replied, Shit I got two of em on me right now bro, Van said, Shit say less then fam, I
said with confidence. About an hour passes by and Im trying to figure out where in the hell this

nigga is at. Its around two o clock at this point in time when the doorbell rings. Now
traditionally in a Southern black household the doorbell is almost never rung. Lavan would be
the only nigga to ring the goddamn doorbell. He had a pack of Grape Swisher Sweets, which just
happen to be my favorite thing to smoke out of. You could say this made up for him always
ringing the doorbell when he comes over.
Since Van brought the wraps it was decided that he would roll the blunts that we would
ultimately smoke on the back porch. Drakes mixtape, If Youre Reading This Its Too Late,
had just come out and Nate was blasting it all throughout the house. All while Van is in the
bathroom rolling our demise into some cigars that had been emptied of tobacco. As soon as
Lavan got out of the bathroom we all knew that it was time for us to get high as fuck. So, we
journeyed out onto the back porch to start smoking the rewards of a hard days labor. A few
things we should have taken into account were the fact that the back patio door was not open, the
blinds on the windows were fully open, and Nates step sister was asleep in her room leaving no
one to be a lookout inside the house. Hindsight is fuckin 20/20.
Van lit up the blunt, hit it a good number of times, and passed it to me as I did the same.
When I passed Nate the blunt I looked up and seen the horror in his face. I knew yall asses was
out here smoking weed, Nates mom said as she came out the patio door. She had been in the
house and watched me and Van smoke the weed. When I passed it to Nate though and seen his
face, I immediately stood up and blocked him and the blunt from her view. He then threw it off
into the grass. Nates mom was more excited about catching us then we were excited that she
didnt find the weed. As she ranted on about us smoking weed, and ultimately bringing her bitch
ass husband into the ordeal, me and Nate lock eyes on the blunt which was in view of both us
and his parents.

Me and Nate knew that if they didnt find the weed we could get out of the situation
extremely easy. Wheres that weed at, Nates mom asked, I dont know, we all replied, I
wasnt even smoking, I said adding fuel to the fire, Anthony you a damn lie I seen you
smoking when I was in the house. At this point I stood up as to argue better, and to get over to
that blunt and step on it before she could find it. I eased my way over to where Nate had thrown
it in the grass and stepped on it as to look unsuspicious. Nates mom was mad as all hell at this
point as her excitement turned into frustration because she for the life of herself could not find it.
Anthony move your foot, Nates mom said. Oh shit, I thought, I cant do anything at this point
but obey her. She ended up finding a blunt about the size of a sharpie marker underneath my
black Nike Sandal. She started laughing and jumping with joy because in her mind, maybe she
had acquired a victory over us. Luckily, Nate hadnt hit the blunt or he would have gotten the
same treatment me and Van got.
It was one of the worst losses I had ever taken in the game of life. It was one of those
losses that seemed like it would come inevitably at some point in time. Maybe it was just karma
for all of the things I hadnt been completely honest with her about. Who knows. It made for one
hell of a story. By the way me and Nate just smoked in the car later on that day. As for the blunt
that was retrieved, the official report from Nates mom and stepdad confirm that it was flushed
down the toilet. But me and Nate have an alternate and very plausible idea that they had smoked
our weed altogether.