The Bag of Weed :: Personal Narrative Essays

The Bag of Weed Come on, its just iodin hit, no whizz will of all time find out. We all collect around the pipe, anxiously awaiting our turn. It was 100 in the morning and everyone was asleep, including the dean, or so we thought.Earlier that morning, a friend came up to me excitedly announcing her purchase. She had gotten a smasher of weed. I showed a look of approval, not quite caring or knowing what was ahead. I soon would be part of that deal, but at a much higher price. After the evening activities, we all piled sand into the dorm and started heading to each others rooms. It was a Friday night, and it was nearly impossible to go to bed forward 1200. As our group of friends all sit down there, the idea of getting stoned got thrown into the pot. Being at a Christian school, not very many of us had ever through that before, especially not in the dorm. Theres a first time for everything, one of the girls piped in. We all agreed it would be fun, but knew the consequences if w e were to get caught. After contemplating it all, we unflinching to at least wait until 100, when everyone started going to bed. The time passed quick as we discussed our plan. We would make a pipe out of an empty knock off can, put towels under the door to help stop the smoke from leaking out, and off-key on the fan by the window so it would help float the smoke out. We definitely had it all figured out. The weed was brought out, and placed ever so carefully on the can. We passed it around, and one hit turned into both and two into four. By that time we were all laughing hysterically, obviously needing zero point to laugh at.After we put the weed away, we sat there laughing, joking, ingest and just having fun, thinking we were good to go. Minutes later, a knock came at the door, making each of our heart beats come to a gimpy stop. As the door opened, the dean appeared like a ghost in the night and we all knew we were busted. Wheres the cigarettes? she asked. We all sat the re, looking dumbfounded, and wishing it were just cigarettes because the consequences for that were less severe. She stood at the door for a few minutes, staring at us with a look of complete disappointment on her face, before walking out the door, shutting it behind her.