2010-03-27: Pineapple Express



Date: March 27, 2010


Adam and Hallis go to White Castle…. no really.

"Pineapple Express"

Adam's Place

It's been a trying week for a certain little socialite and while she genuinely appreciates her friend slash therapist coming to her in a time of need… children can be trying. To this end, the young woman calls absolutely everyone on her speed dial and some people that aren't. No one is available to save what little sanity she has left. For a time, she is contented to sequester herself in her room, having made the rule that there would be no noise while her door was shut has proven to be quite good. She hasn't been bothered too much as she makes one last call.

Twenty Minutes Later…

There's a knock on the door of an unfamiliar apartment, though she's been more than acquainted with the man for a while now, she's still a little leary about calling him for help. Dressed in casual clothing, or as casual as they get for Hallis, she fidgets at the door for a while.

The knock is a little hard to hear over the movies going on inside the place. It's something big and loud and boomy and bassy, what with all the sound and video equipment that Yakuza money can buy. Since it's a danged nice place in some upscale building uptown, it's not like he gives a damn if his stodgy neighbors can hear. They better not be able to anyways, since these floors are supposedly sound- and fire-proof. Without any heroics to be done recently, there's been a lot of free time. Aside from starting the training of another blonde regenerator, there hasn't been much to do but enjoy life.

Eventually, the door unlocks…deadbolt, chain, another deadbolt, then the knob, and it swings up a little, a face peeking out. His eyes are squinted, his hair is all mussed up and spiked in some crazy bedhead. "Wait…what? I didn't order a pizza yet." The interior of the apartment is pretty dark, and a smoke of a peculiar odor ropes out through the crack.

"What? Pizza? No, Adam… It's Hallis?" The dainty blonde peeks her head to the crack and raises her eyebrows expectantly, a semi smile on her face. She gives him a little wave as though that's supposed to give him a jolt to the brain about what exactly she is doing there. "I called? You said come over? I said okay?"

Giving the air an exploratory whiff, she puts a hand on the door to barge into the place. She recognizes that smell and it's like a little slice of heaven to her olfactory nerves. "Let me in, please? I don't want to spend the whole night at your front door." She takes another deep breath and then just pushes on the door to give herself room to squeeze between the crack. It really won't take much.

He's not really in a mood to argue anyway. "Oh…sure…I guess?" He looks fairly disoriented, and lets her push her way into the apartment. When she pushes, he stumbles back a few shuffling steps, but stays upright. The offending odor seems to be coming from farther in the apartment, with the doorway being a little collection area for some of the smoke. When Hallis enters, it's pretty clear what was going on: Adam's getting high and watching terrible action movies (Live Free or Die Hard, anyone?).

Inside, Adam kicks the door shut with the world's worst spin kick; he still has to push it shut all the way and lock up after. But it's good in the sense that he's shirtless, wearing some flannel PJ pants…and that's about it. "So. You aren't like…gonna call the cops, right?"

"Call the cops? Heck no!" She grabs the bowl and takes a long puff, holding it for just a little while before coughing the smoke out. She leans back on the couch, still holding it and letting out a very long sigh of happiness. "Maaaaan I've missed this." She utters lowly before taking one more toke.

This time, the smoke isn't coughed out. There's a snort, the kind you get when you're trying not to cough, then it happens a good fit. She replaces the bowl in the tray and gives the man a silly little grin. "If I knew that you were into this, I would have been over waaaaaaaayyyy before this."

With a lopsided grin, he flops down on the couch next to her; the cushions groan under the weight since it's a pretty comfy couch that you really sink down into. Before he tokes, he turns the movie back on, then goes at it himself. "Well, this isn't an everyday thing, you know. This stuff gets a little pricey around here." To prove his point, he holds up a rather large Ziploc. When he inhales, he lets out a nice, thick, wobbly smoke ring, before going into a nice little coughing fit himself.

The smaller of the two blondes stares at the Ziploc with wide eyes and glances between him and it with an expression of gaping awe. "How much is that? Good lord that's a lot!" It's a good thing that weed isn't one of the drugs that Hallis traded God for a favor, so she indulges pretty freely from the Englishman's stash. It hits quickly and it hits hard because less than fifteen minutes later, she's giggling at the movie and pointing toward Bruce Willis, "Look! Adam! He's got a fivehead!! Hah hahaha hah!!"

Adam's been going at it a while before she got here, but then, he's trying to get high while his ability tries to fight it off. That, and he weighs more than a thimble full of booze. So! A bag that size is sort of a necessity. Taking turns on the pipe, Adam leans back and just grins at the movie idly, until she points out the fivehead. Then he gets a really serious look on his face, and runs his fingers across his forehead (wrinkled from the look on his face). "Dude…so do I. But I have hair though." He's running his hands through his hair now, just to confirm.

Reaching up, Hallis pats at Adam's hair while giggling and nodding emphatically. "You have hair, it's all spikey and heeee heeee…" She dissolves in another fit of giggles at that point. "Adam doesn't have hair though, he's all bald, but then hair would look a little bit funny on a fish, right? Hey Adam, are there any fish with hair?" It's a rather serious question, one that deserves another go at the bowl! So as she waits for his answer, she takes a long puff puff puff and attempts to blow a smoke ring. She's not as successful as he is though, hers sort of starts out well, but then the cough that follows her tiny exhale sends a cloud floating around her head.

"Uh…I think there's one down in South America. They have all sorts of messed up stuff down there." About as messed up as these two are getting on the sticky-icky. "I mean they have fish that swim right up your…ah, your thing. Though you don't need to worry about that I guess. So why not a fish with hair!" One more toke, lots of bubbles and a bit of a coughing exhale from nose and mouth.

"If I was a fish, I'd be a fish with great shoes," Hallis says, her tone of voice is very serious, as though she'd just had the greatest revalation in the history of the world. "It's like, I wouldn't just be a fish with shoes, I'd definitely have great fish hair too." The young woman leans back and lays her head against the back of the couch. It really is a comfortable couch and as such, she really doesn't want to lift it again to look at him, so it just sort of lolls to the side. "You know what'd be great right now? Food… you got any food?"

"I thought you were the pizza man, bud. But then I remembered I didn't even order pizza. So that would've been awesome. But…uh…I don't have much food. Besides, none of it would be as good as a burger right now." To emphasize, he rubs his (bare) abs and licks his lips. "Yeah man, a big thickburger or something."

"Thickburger… no no… We should go to … uhhhh…" Then Hallis falls silent and just stares for a period of time that lasts for about five minutes. Her eyebrows quirk and she bobs her head around like she's talking, but her lips aren't moving and there's not a sound that's coming from her lips. "…Yeah… That's a great idea, I think there's one in New Jersey, do you have a car? I don't have a car anymore, it got run over by a semi truck. I think… No wait… it crashed into a pole… the rental…" And she's silent again.

"Uhhh…yeah. I think so. Hold on." Adam gets up and walks into the kitchen, rummaging through the keys he has: to note, there are 4 keys. Three are obviously door keys, and the last is one of those giant transmitter carkeys. "Yeah…yeah, I think this is a car key. So I have a car." When he reappears, he's holding a bag of Doritos in one hand, reaching in and getting out chips with the other. Guess he forgot he had those, the holy grail of munchy snacks. "Found chips too."

Hallis is now struggling to get up off the couch, but she's a lightweight and it's really not working very well for her to just sit up. So she sort of just slumps down on the couch and slides off like a little puddle of liquid Hallis. There she remains for a moment or two before crawling up and then coming to a wobbly stand. "Keys mean go go! Let's go! Burger burger…" The little socialite actually wants to eat? Well it's one for the record books and quite possibly an opportunity that should be jumped on as soon as the words are uttered from her mouth.

"Ok…but if we go, I have to change clothes and stuff." With that, he wanders off to the bedroom, chips still in hand. After what could be an hour, what could be 15 minutes…who knows (it's actually about 20 minutes according to the movie), Adam reappears, ready to go. High or not, he's got on a black tshirt, a black vest over that, then a white jacket, white ball cap, and white sneakers with dark blue jeans. Just like Justin Timberlake, of course.

"What? No, you don't need to cha — " But Adam is already off to the bedroom. While he's gone, Hallis makes herself quite comfortable in the kitchen and by that, she's laying on top of the counter, staring at the ceiling with her mouth open. What is she doing? Counting the stipple, it's a tough job considering she can't really focus that far away. So what she's really doing is squinting at the ceiling and just counting. "Nine hundred sixty-two, nine hundred sixty-three, nine hundred sixty-four…." Pause. "One, two, three…"

When Adam comes down the hall from the bedroom, it's pretty obvious that he's been watching TRL a little too much lately, with nothing else better to do. He's dancing, if that's what you want to call his wobbly, awkward side-to-side whiteboy shuffling. "Do you like it well done 'cause I do it well…'cause I'm well seasoned if ya couldn't tell…" he sings, poorly, coming down to the kitchen. "Now let me walk into ya body 'til ya hear me out…turn me on my baby don't you cut me out…" Then he mumbles a few lines, then finally, he gets back to the point of the song, whereupon he just says carryout over and over to the melody. Of course, in his head, he's just as good as in the video.

Hallis' eyes zone in on the man's hands first, she's obviously looking for that bag of chips. Not finding them, she looks up at his face, which for some odd reason is sideways. "Hey Adam, did you get those weird boots that let you walk on walls?" In her state, it doesn't even occur to her that maybe, just maybe, he's not sideways, she is.

He stops in the middle of the hall and looks down at the floor. It's carpeted. So…that's probably not the wall. "Uh…no. But, I think carpeted walls is a good idea. I should get some. That'd feel really good when you're sleepy and stuff, instead of crashing on the walls." And that's the answer before he figures out that she's lying on the counter. "Oh man…why are you lying on the counter? That stuff is like rock hard." It's granite, in fact.

"I dunno… Why are you dressed like.. uhhh… Fitty Cent?" He's the only rapper she knows about, and Adam is definitely dressed like a rapper, maybe. She turns onto her side to look at him and whump flat on the floor. "OOoooooowwwwwwww!!" she whines, rather annoyingly, then there's a little sob, then a giggle, that giggle erupts into a raucous laugh. The poor thing just can't get off the floor, every time she tries, her arms just don't feel like cooperating. "Adamlake! You're Justin Adamlake! Or… Adam Timberjustin? Hah ha ha!! Ha ha!!"

Maybe he's a masochist, but when she falls off the floor, his reaction isn't to hurry and help. It's to just break out laughing himself. He doubles up in the living room, watching her roll around and laugh, unable to find the name for Justin Timberlake. But then he stops. "Who?" What?

"Adaaaaaaammmmm" She whines in the midst of her giggles, poor Hallis, she really can't stop. "H- Ha ha ha! He- Haha! Help me!!" She rolls onto her back and keeps laughing. Now, there's a problem with getting the celebutante laughing too hard. It's something that really only ever happens in situations like this and thankfully it doesn't happen that often. She laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and then… snorts. Both of her hands clap over her mouth when she peals into a new fit of hysterics that's interrupted with every breath inward by a loud snort.

When she snorts, Adam can't restrain himself. He starts to guffaw loudly, on the verge of tears too. It was a dang good snort, by all accounts! Who'd have figured that a little celebutante could snort like a big boar full of bacon. Fatty, delicious bacon. So even while he sits on the hallway floor, unable to stand anymore, with his back on the way. "Duuuuuuuude, let's get BACON burgers. DOUBLE bacon burgers. With Canadian bacon on top." Hallis gets the giggles; Adam gets the munchies.

Bacon, fatty, delicious bacon. The very thought of it actually has her tummy growling, something that it quit doing quite a while ago. Why complain when you never get any results, right? This time, it's complaining, and she's actually listening. "Mmmmmmmmbacon," the woman says it like it's one word. She rolls onto her side again and crawls over to Adam and makes a reach for his hands. "Let's drive to Virginia to that fat lady's restaurant where she makes the cheeseburgers on donuts!" The idea may just be the best one ever. "C'mon Adam, grab the weed and let's driiiiiiiiiive!!" It can't take that long to get there, right?

"Well, it's what…like 300 miles away? All we have to do is…" Wait for it. Wait for it. "…drive 300 miles per hour, and we'd be there in like…" He stops, holds up his hand, and does the math. "Like about an hour or something." Seems like a pretty good plan, right? So up he gets, using the wall for plenty of balance, and staggers into the living room to get the weed, and gogogo for the Luther Burger.

Hanging onto Adam's coat, Hallis staggers to a stand before he moves toward the livingroom to get the all important bag of weed. She stumbles for the door, like Adam she's using the walls to keep herself up. She doesn't seem to be too damaged from her fall to the floor, in fact, she's still giggling about it and everything else. Thank goodness she's not on her back still, because she's finally stopped snorting.

"Ok…ok…ok…ok…" Adam stands inside the door, running through some sort of mental checklist that requires him to say ok over and over again for some reason. He starts to feel around in his pockets to make sure he's got everything: wallet, check; phone, check; keys, check; high celebutante, check; plastic bag full of green, check. Good to go. So he goes. He tugs the door shut, but it's not locked, not even the knob. Hey, at least it's latched.

Following the man out the door, Hallis tugs it closed before leaning heavily against the wall to wait for him to lock it, if he remembers. She didn't bring much of anything with her, even if she did, she forgot it inside. After he's finished, she tags along after him toward the parking garage. At first she's humming, then she begins to sing, "Carryout… Carryout…" She doesn't know the words to the song, she's just imitating what Adam was singing earlier.

The trip to the elevator is uneventful. It's not until they get inside the shiny interior that Adam starts to sing again. "Ra-ra-rasputin, lover of the Russian queen. There wss a cat that really was gone. Ra-ra-rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine. It was a shame how he carried on." Of course, he lived through the Boney M craze in the 70s. More importantly, even if Hallis doesn't hear the music, she definitely hears Adam punching buttons on the elevator to the rhythm…and there's a lot of them. And he pushes them all.

The Englishman's singing isn't very good, not like her own, not at all. So when his disco starts to drown out her mimicry of his hip hop. She simply looks up at him with a bit of awe and then starts to laugh again. "Adam… you're horrible!" She pauses as she listens to him singing just a little more before cutting in again, "…You need a record contract!" The elevator ride is a looooooooong one, not helped by the fact that they stop on every floor on the way down. But they finally make it, not braking for disco.

The parking garage is in the sub-basement, about three levels underground. And at this hour, they're totally the only stoned people walking through on their way out for burgers. Plenty of space here for Adam to get his Timberlake on again…which is just what he does. In between sudden stops and starts while he looks for the car. That consists of pulling out the keys, beeping the clicker, then looking around. The horn and lights go off somewhere in the garage, but not in this exact section, so they carry out, singing and dancing poorly the whole way.

When they finally reach the car, Hallis is thoroughly enjoying Adam's singing and even joining in on the dancing. She's bopping along to the melody and once they get to the car, she slips inside of it and promptly lays the seat back, though she doesn't lay back with it, not really. The way she sits is quite odd, not really sitting, her feet are hung over the back of the seat as she lays backward on the seat and begins to study the floor mat. "You know… there's lots of dots on this thing…"

"Oh yeah?" Adam slides into the driver's seat, and opens his legs up to look down at the floormat. "Whoa," he says, looking at all the little pills on the upholstry there. "One little dot…EH-HEH-HEH-HEH. TWO little dots….EH-HEH-HEH-HEH!" As he sits there he turns the key just enough to get the radio juice flowing. Of course, there's been a CD in there from the last time he drove the thing (several, in fact). But the song that comes on immediately after starting it up makes him start to crack up as he sings along. "Ooooooooooooooo, you touch my tralala…..oooooooooooohhhhhh my ding ding dong."

When Adam begins to count the pills on the floormat Hallis just can't help herself and she begins to laugh, hard, again. "You're like the Sesame Street guy!!" She peels with laughter again and flips over onto her back, then twists around until her head is resting on the console and her feet are up on the window. This also means she's on her back again… and snorting. It's really not her fault, it's his! "Stop!! Hah hah hah!!" Then between her giggles and snorts she tries to imitate the Count by laughing, "Ah-ah-ah!" His taste is music is really so much different than the picture she's painted in her head of him. The fact that he's singing about ding ding dongs and tralala's? She can hardly catch her breath she's laughing so hard.

Singing along to the music, Adam powers his seat back to the fully reclined position. "Man…I have no idea when I made this CD. I probably got it from a friend or something. The funny thing is?" He turns to look at Hallis like what he's about to say is the most important thing IN THE WORLD. It's a TOTAL JACK BAUER MOMENT. "There's not a SINGLE bell in the WHOLE SONG." Then he goes back to lying on his back and staring at the concrete garage ceiling through the sunroof.

Well that does it, the young socialite pushes the back button on the CD player to listen to the entire song all over again! "Really? No way!" Then she concentrates on the song, trying to listen for the lack of bell. Slowly, her eyes close and somewhere in her head, she actually told Adam to start the car… they were going to get Luther Burgers from Virginia. 300 miles an hour. They were going to be sooooo good.

The key never gets cranked though. Lying back in his seat, in this state, sleep isn't far away for Adam either. At least he got some chips earlier. And hopefully the car doors are locked, otherwise these two could be in for a wild ride over the course of the night…

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