Aaron Brooks looked around nervously. “Yo Kenny, I don’t know if you should be smokin’ that stuff in here.”
Kenneth Faried took a long drag on a spliff and grinned stupidly before exhaling the smoke through his tightly-pursed lips. “Chill out Aaron. It’s legal in Colorado.”
“I know that, but you can be sure that Shaw ain’t gonna like you smokin’ up right before a game’s about to start. He’ll suspend your ass in no time flat.”
Kenneth waived his hand dismissively. “You’re killing my vibe man. Just flow with it, man, whatever happens, happens for a reason, you know? This is how I get in my zone, man.” To prove his point, he took another puff. A haze of marijuana smoke now enveloped him, giving him the appearance of a wise, incense-shrouded sage.
Aaron shook his head. “Can’t you at least take it to a bathroom or something? Some of us don’t want to get a second-hand high. Makes me sluggish and lazy.”
“Come on, man. Just dream the green. Dream the green, maaaan,” Kenneth said slowly.
“What does that even mean? Is that some kind of stoner slogan?”
Smiling with half-lidded eyes, Kenneth merely responded, “The bigger the kushin, the sweeter the pushin’, man. I feel like I could go out there and score thirty.”
“Yeah dude, whatever you say. You’ll probably just sit here and eat that bag of Doritos that’s in your locker,” Aaron retorted.
“420, man. 420 every day.”