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I have some WACKY friends.  Well... one of them is WACKY.  His name is Dyaval.  Pretty much every time he comes over, we do somethin WACKY.  I'm gonna stop saying WACKY because I know it bugs you.  This is going to be all about what we do whenever he comes over.

The first thing that comes to mind is our fun time with smoke-bombs.  So Dyaval comes over, and he's got his bag, like he normally does, and, as usual, it's full of fun surprises!  But this time, it's not a knife or a wrench, its about 10 bags of smoke-bombs!  There are about 8 smoke-bombs in each bag, if I remember correctly.  So we walk downtown, and we go into an empty parking lot.  He takes one out, and lights it.  It starts to spark, like normal fireworks do.  Then, there is a small burst of flame, he throws it, and the smoke starts to come out. "HOLY CRAP!  IT'S PURPLE!" exclaimed ABSOLUTELY NO ONE!  But it was purple.  He then takes out another one, lights it, and holds on to it, until the smoke starts to come out.  He holds on, and puts the hole where the smoke is coming out right up to the ground, and starts to write things.  They burnt onto the pavement.  The parking lot now said, "COON" in brown and green.

Now that I new all about the SB's, we went into town, and headed for the back of it, where all the poor minorities live.  It was the perfect spot for vandalism and disturbing the peace, because minorities do not know how to use those new-fangled machines, like telephones.  We're walking along the sidewalk, when this little kid runs out from his back yard and screams "Get off my property!"  This angered me, because he was little, and he thought he owned the sidewalk.  "Gimme a bomb..." I said to Dyaval.  He handed me one, I lit it, and threw it at the kid.  The green smoke shot out, and the kid screamed like a little girl.  Tee hee hee!  His mom ran out to the back yard, and that's all we say, because by that time, we were running our asses off.  As I have said many times before, it's not a good story if it doesn't end with you running like hell, or you getting kicked out of somewhere.

On the wonderful date of 4/20, my parents went away for the weekend.  Man, they really must trust me and Liisa, my sister.  I invited my best friend, whom I am leaving unnamed, since he has a fruity name, and Dyaval over.  If you don't know, 4:20 is the time of day when pot-smokers around the world sit down with a G, and light up.  The date is even better.  It's like a pot-smoking holiday.  So, my parents went away, and I had my friends over, and Liisa had her friends over.  Needless to say, we smoked.  I forget how much, but I think it was around 2 or 3 ounces.  Good times.  Nothing really WACKY (heh... I said it again) about that, but it was still fun.

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