The Devil's Lettuce

Margaret smiled sweetly at the thought. The wine, and her step-mother's kindness had mixed together warmly in her, a warmness which flowed to her parts ****, her toes tingle, and her head floats in light circles, as a balloon bobs in the breeze.

Guilt was the only negative feeling she now possessed. How cruel, she thought, to have so rejected her. Yes, it was childish, she knew, and too immature for the smart, sophisticate she fancied herself as. And how mean and rude to always have put down her step-mother and ignored her interests. She did remember her step-mother never giving up on sharing things with her: tanning, swimming, planning a party, going shopping, makeovers, spa days. Margaret had always been so abruptly curt as to be decidedly rude in her absolute disdain of it all.

"No, thank you, I have something much more important to do!"

And then she would sulk back to her fortress of solitude to study, as though taking **** on her step-mother with each page turned, a blow, and each fact learned, a stab.

When she looked back down, her step-mother was gone. She must have been quite silent, more silent than what she now heard, a rattling of drawers, contents, and then the rush back.

"I've got something for you...", she sang in no particular tune as she sashayed back into the room.

She was swinging a baggie in one hand a glass pipe of pink crystal in the other.

Both looked very pricey.

Even in her drunken state Margaret was a bit unsettled, and if she could have reacted more quickly she would have spoken before her step-mother. As she was, she could only listen.

"Honey, you're so much like your father. Haven't you ever wondered what he wanted me around for? I know you always questioned it, but never really wondered, didn't want the answer, I mean. Honey, people like you and your dad are so special, cand do such good things, help people, but you need to have fun. Like you need to eat, or sleep, or fuck!- Your father knew it, that's why he got me, found me, loved me. I may not be Ms. Mensa, but I know how to have fun! You and your dad are so alike, I hope you are like that too, can unwind...you've worked so hard for so many years, I hope you can relax like he did."

And so, Margaret took the pipe from her mother and an ornate table-lighter from beside her.

Her father had smoked a pipe, but it had always been filled with tobacco, she thought. So, repeating his mannerisms, she attempted to smoke.

She coughed hardily, almost too loudly to hear her step-mother.

"Sweetheart, you got to plug the whole on the side of the pipe's bowl with your finger, and draw in deep!"

As soon as she had a clear breath she used it to suck through the pipe, and like that Margaret was drifting.

In 9 hours her probabtion officer would be at her home to collect a urine test. It was clearly included, in red font, in the release paperwork that had been given to her step-mother.

"Now...tell me about this incident...", her mother inquired.