Yesterday's Gone: Season One

hookup now! Oh shit, I should’ve thought to raid Wally’s house! I would’ve had enough shit to last me at least a couple months. Hell, maybe enough for all of us, knowing what Wally had stashed away!”
    Jim laughed and looked at John, trying to draw him into friendly conversation, but he may as well have been alone. John just stared out the window, casting an occasional glance at Jim, more curious than irritated, though laced with something else Jim couldn’t place.  
    He’d seen the look before, mostly exaggerated on the expressions of bad guys in cheesy B-movies. Same look on John’s face, but it didn’t fit, like a turtle shell on a cat. The guy may have been anal with a capital A, and a bit of a douche the past few days, but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
    “You know,” Jim said, “I’m not even really sure this is Jade. Wally always gets these cool names from his brother: Mace Windu, Blue Dream, Hippie Crippler, but hell, how would we know? I think his brother probably buys crap weed and changes the names. You really should give this a try,” he offered the pipe to John. “I bet it makes you feel a lot better than you’re expecting in less time than you imagine it could. And without the hangover.” Jim smiled. “Temporary, but nice while it lasts.”
    Jim flicked his lighter. The quiet crackle of curling leaves sent a thin plume of bitter smoke swirling through the air. He drew the smoke into his lungs with a double barrel inhale, then held his breath for an impossibly long time, partly showing off, then blew the smoke in a frothy jet that settled against the glass like frost.
    “Good... shit.” Jim said, pounding his chest. “Come on, man, lighten up . Give it a try. You’ve got no idea what you’re missing. And seriously, this is the last of my stash. I should get a blue ribbon or medal for even offering.”
    John narrowed his eyes and held his gaze, long enough to make Jim think he was about to get a lecture. Finally, John held out his hand, palm open.  
    “What do I do?”  
    Jim grinned ear to ear. He should have handed John the pipe and pot right there, but that wasn’t his style under the best of circumstances, and certainly wouldn’t do when delivering the details of such an important process to a weed virgin.  
    “Believe it or not,” Jim said, “there’s a science to smoking. You want to get as high as you can with the smallest amount possible. Forget what you’ve been told by The Man; marijuana is a fucking miracle plant. You can grow it, chop it; make paper, wood, fabric or whatever. Plus, of course, you can smoke it, cook it, even simmer it in oil or alcohol to prime it for ingestion.” Jim looked at John with professorial authority. “Now, it’s not water soluble, so if you eat it raw, you’ll only end up scrubbing your insides with a loofa you have to pay for by the ounce. Believe me, bro; a bran muffin is way cheaper. You ever smoke a regular cigarette?”
    John took a second to think, then shook his head no.  
    “Too bad, because it’s pretty much the same thing, except when you’re done smoking ganja, you feel happy and creative, instead of swearing you'll quit tomorrow. I don’t have rolling papers so I’m using this.” Jim held the pipe between two fingers, then refilled the bowl with a few more dried leaves.
    “Light it, then inhale. Like this.” Jim drew on the pipe’s stem, pulling the smoke into his lungs with another bottomless breath, then blew it out, turning his head and sending the plume into the hallway behind them. “Hold it in as long as you like, then let it out. When your mind starts swimming, it’s time to stop smoking. Keep going, and it’s just a waste of weed, especially when it comes to the hydroponics shit. Of course, there are a million theories about the ideal length of time to hold your smoke, how big a hit you should take, whether you should stand or sit, and just about any variable you can think of. But I like to keep it simple — breathe in, breathe out, and be merry.”
    If that wasn’t a bumper sticker already, Jim thought it should be. Breathe in, breathe out, be merry.
    Jim sprinkled a few more fresh leaves into the basin, then handed John the pipe and lighter. John put it to his lips, flicked the lighter and lit the leaves as Jim had done.  
    “Since you’re not used to smoking, you’re probably gonna hack a bit, no big,” Jim said. “Just hold it in as long as you can.”
    Jim was enjoying