Much of Nothing
"I've always been partial to wooded areas," You tell her. She nods and turns around, steering the car down the road that apparently leads to the forest trail.
The road is surrounded on both sides by thick woodland, the trees full with green leaves. You see shadows of animals moving about behind the thick foliage. All in all it is a very beautiful sight.
The car pulls into a parking spot and the three of you get out. You follow Dan and the girl who Dudley brought to the park in the woods as they make their way to the trail entrance. A sign sits next to the trail stating that the trail goes on for 8.7 miles and warns that impregnated woman, the elderly, and people with back problems or heart problems should not walk this trail. It doesn't say anything about pot heads.
You walk for about three minutes when Dan stops suddenly. "Okay, this should be good," He says. "Spark it up."
The girl, who had still been walking, suddenly stops and glares at Dan, her eyes saying that he's a fucking idiot; her mouth saying "You're a fucking idiot."
"Why?" He asks. "We're in the woods now. That was our goal. Now let's smoke."
"Dude," You say, "We're like twenty feet from the trail entrance."
"Right," He says, "That's what I'm saying. Light the joint already. What are we waiting for?"
"I don't know about you," says the girl who drove you here, "But I'm waiting for us to get into the woods more so that if someone should walk into the woods they won't see or smell a bunch of out of town stoners puffing on a blunt."
There is a moment of silence before Dan responds. "Oh," He says simply. And the three of you are moving up the trail again, navigating the dips and rises, twists and turns, puddles and roots that make up the trail.
Through the trees and overgrowth to your right you are aware of a river that mirrors the path of the forest, and you long to see it. It would be rather peaceful to stand at its edge and smoke, you imagine. The only real question is how do you get there? And the answer to that question is answered soon enough when the path comes to a sudden split.
At the center of the trail-divide is a sign which labels each direction of the trail as the novice path (which extends for another 6.2 miles) or the expert path (which continues for a full 8.5 miles.) On the sign it says that the novice path leads to the riverside, while the expert path leads to a waterfall and a series of wooden bridges.
The river is cool and all, but a waterfall would be fucking sweet ass.
"Ooo," says the girl who has been leading the way, "A waterfall."
Dan shakes his head. "That's on the expert path," He says between huffing and puffing. "I don't think I like the expert path. I'd much rather scope out that river and have a fucking cigarette."
"What's stopping you from having your cigarette?" She asks him.
"Nothing," He answers, pulling a pack of Marlboro reds out of his shirt pocket. "But I still don't want to go on the expert path." He places a cigarette in his mouth and lights it up.
The girl turns to you. "What do you think?"
Great! So now it's up to you again! Why is it always up to you?!
The road is surrounded on both sides by thick woodland, the trees full with green leaves. You see shadows of animals moving about behind the thick foliage. All in all it is a very beautiful sight.
The car pulls into a parking spot and the three of you get out. You follow Dan and the girl who Dudley brought to the park in the woods as they make their way to the trail entrance. A sign sits next to the trail stating that the trail goes on for 8.7 miles and warns that impregnated woman, the elderly, and people with back problems or heart problems should not walk this trail. It doesn't say anything about pot heads.
You walk for about three minutes when Dan stops suddenly. "Okay, this should be good," He says. "Spark it up."
The girl, who had still been walking, suddenly stops and glares at Dan, her eyes saying that he's a fucking idiot; her mouth saying "You're a fucking idiot."
"Why?" He asks. "We're in the woods now. That was our goal. Now let's smoke."
"Dude," You say, "We're like twenty feet from the trail entrance."
"Right," He says, "That's what I'm saying. Light the joint already. What are we waiting for?"
"I don't know about you," says the girl who drove you here, "But I'm waiting for us to get into the woods more so that if someone should walk into the woods they won't see or smell a bunch of out of town stoners puffing on a blunt."
There is a moment of silence before Dan responds. "Oh," He says simply. And the three of you are moving up the trail again, navigating the dips and rises, twists and turns, puddles and roots that make up the trail.
Through the trees and overgrowth to your right you are aware of a river that mirrors the path of the forest, and you long to see it. It would be rather peaceful to stand at its edge and smoke, you imagine. The only real question is how do you get there? And the answer to that question is answered soon enough when the path comes to a sudden split.
At the center of the trail-divide is a sign which labels each direction of the trail as the novice path (which extends for another 6.2 miles) or the expert path (which continues for a full 8.5 miles.) On the sign it says that the novice path leads to the riverside, while the expert path leads to a waterfall and a series of wooden bridges.
The river is cool and all, but a waterfall would be fucking sweet ass.
"Ooo," says the girl who has been leading the way, "A waterfall."
Dan shakes his head. "That's on the expert path," He says between huffing and puffing. "I don't think I like the expert path. I'd much rather scope out that river and have a fucking cigarette."
"What's stopping you from having your cigarette?" She asks him.
"Nothing," He answers, pulling a pack of Marlboro reds out of his shirt pocket. "But I still don't want to go on the expert path." He places a cigarette in his mouth and lights it up.
The girl turns to you. "What do you think?"
Great! So now it's up to you again! Why is it always up to you?!