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creative writing-epiphany

creative writing-epiphany - RECIPE FOR SUCCESS NOT INCLUDED...

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RECIPE FOR SUCCESS NOT INCLUDED A Use of Non-Gratuitous Vulgarity and Drug-Abuse in an Attempt to Show the Maturation of an Inner-City Youth By Karna Upadhyay “You stole my lighter didn’t you, you little bitch.” The room’s heavy silence was broken by the paranoid musings of a stoned teenager. Joe clumsily crammed his hands down his pockets, frantically searching for the lighter ever so crucial to his plans for the night. “Fuck you, I didn’t steal shit.” Mack replied while glaring through the tiny slits of eyes. “Well where’d it go? I just got that shit from the Citgo thirty minutes ago.” “Did you check you pockets?” Joe rolled his eyes, wondering how he became friends with someone that could ask such an idiotic question, but proceeded to check his pants again. “Help me look or we can’t smoke another bowl.” With all the quickness that can be expected from two drunk and high youth, Joe and Mack proceeded to rummage through the veritable war zone that was Mack’s room. While digging through bowls with week old Raman noodles plastered to the bottom, videos, CDs, notebooks soaked with bong water, dirty laundry and resin covered fingernail clippers, Joe’s exasperation reached its boiling point. Spinning around and pointing an accusing finger at Mack he shouted. “You had it last you lying motherfucker, you killed the bowl when I went to the bathroom.”
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“Calm the fuck down man, I remember now, I put it in my drawer.” Stumbling over a pile of wrinkled shirts, Mack opened the dresser drawer and produced the sought after lighter. “See man, I got your holy lighter.” Joe snatched it from Mack, giving the obligatory “Fuck you” and holding the lighter up to the bowl while slamming down on the button that would relinquish the much needed lighter fluid. The feeble flame from the lighter sprang towards the skies only to slowly diminish and eventually vanish. Joe tried again, embarrassment enhancing the vigor that he put into his actions, only to end in the same results. “What the fuck is wrong with this lighter man. It has all of it’s fluid.” “Give it here man, lemme try.” Joe tossed the lighter to his drug-enamored counterpart, and watched as his own failure was replicated for 30 more seconds of vulgarity and, “I don’t know what’s up with it.” “If this goddamn lighter don’t work, I’m taking it back to the Citgo and getting a new one. I just got it like ten minutes ago.” Embellishments and half-truths seem to have dominated Joe’s life lately.
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