It's a matter of pinion...
There's a hail storm. Complete with lightning and everything. This is some weather we're having - Normally Australian winters are mild with occasional cold nightsand mornings, but I'm seriously beginning to believe that there's something very wrong happening here. There might be something in this ozone, global warming (and, incidentally, cooling) business. It's a bit of a worry, actually.
So, Sunday. Tomorrow is Monday and there beginneth my fortnight of no work. Can't tell you how pleased I am about it *squee*. Also have me a fair amount of the good green to have and to hold. And smoke. And share with Era soon, I believe.
I've gotten a decent amount of fics written and now that I've got a system - of sorts - in place, I can see what's being done and what needs doing. I've go two quite large fanfiction projects to do (one almost complete and the other in chunks). There are pages and pages of notes pinned to my wall on all manner of things - timelines (very useful for Weasleycest), birthdates, key plotlines and words, character workand basic ideas. It's going well; though it makes me imagine, everytime I see this wall, what my own house will look like...Much like that, but on a far larger scale.
Guh. It's fucking freeeeezing. And rainy.
Went to Miami's 21st last night. I didn't get drunk. I smoked with some girl called...Jan. We talked. It got cold. I drank champagne and bitched about party guests with Im. It was an alright night (not all that notable), but it was good to see Miami and Nemo again (still together, as I had thought). I was secretly very glad to get home to bed, though. Who knows, maybe I'm getting old.
Have to roll lmore joints tonight. It's more or less so I don't have to keep doing it, lol, just get them all done and I don't have to deal with it later.
Speaking of joints, lol, the other night I wrote a new Housefic featuring Chase, House and pot. I've always wanted to write a pot!fic and my first attempts involved Cuddy and didn't work out right, so I abandoned all hope, but, after my own joints (heh), inspiration struck. Actually, I quite like this one. I hope the critics are gentle. You can find it, if you wish to read it, beneath the cut. It's probably one of my more lengthy pieces at 1,306 words and there's a buttload of dialogue, which I think worked out alright.
MAGIC, FEATHERS AND SHADOW PUPPETS
Nimble fingers expertly rolled two joints and tucked them into a jacket pocket. These same fingers gripped the ever-present cane and Greg House took himself, his fingers and his joints up to the roof of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Their case had just about drawn to a close – their patient was in surgery and was expected to make a full recovery – so to House, this was a well earned treat.
Upon reaching the roof, House drew one of the joints from the depths of his pocket and lit it up. He inhaled deeply, but sooner than he would have liked, he was interrupted. Holding his breath, House turned around. “I couldn’t find you downstairs, so I figured I should come here. The patient is doing well so far”, it was Chase.
The Diagnostician exhaled a lungful of blue-grey smoke toward his surprised fellow. “What are you doing up here, anyway...And is that pot?” House shrugged and took another drag, “I thought you were Cuddy, and yes”.
House turned his back to look out over the view of the hospital grounds. Chase strode to join him, “Do you do this often?” Passing the joint to Chase, House replied, “not often, but usually at home”. The Intensivist inspected the spliff and took a draw. He coughed upon exhaling and House couldn’t help but chuckle, “you have done this before, right? Or don’t they smoke pot in
They stood quietly for a moment and Chase watched House blow more smoke rings, one inside another.
Again, House passed the weed off and, inhaling deeper this time, Chase enquired, “Where did you get this, anyway?” House smiled knowingly, “it’s medicinal. You like it?” Chase nodded and then very quickly made the connection between medicinal Marijuana and Oncology, “
“You want the roach?” Chase shook his head. “Cool. It’s the best bit”, squinting his blue eyes through the harsh smoke, House smoked the joint right to the cardboard. He tossed the roach over the edge and shifted his cane in his hands. He noticed that Chase was in heady – probably high – concentration and allowed him a quiet minute.
“So, weed and Vicodin?” Chase questioned out of the blue. House groaned, “What are you, my mother?”, “nope”, Chase retorted, “I’m not
To lighten the mood, House smiled “but, I do other things to keep myself occupied”. “Yeah, like what?”, and at that, House reached behind Chase’s ear and pulled back the second joint, “magic tricks”. He handed it and the lighter to Chase. Lighting it and laughing, Chase gave his verdict, “that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen”. Taking the joint, House replied, “That’s nothing. You should see me with a deck of cards”.
Again, the two men stood for a moment, but the silence was interrupted by House, “Hey, what’s the difference between a crow and a raven?” Chase stared at his boss dumbly and shook his head, “Well”, House breathed, “It’s a matter of pinion”. Chase rolled his eyes, “feathers. Very funny”, he playfully smacked House on the shoulder. “So magic tricks and jokes, what else have you got?” House shook his head and took the joint from an again coughing Chase, “your turn”. The blonde waved the smoke from his eyes and sought out a spot on the roof with enough light. “What are you doing?” House asked, but he was quickly silenced by Chase holding up a finger. The younger doctor crouched down, moved his hands and a dog appeared on the ground, House laughed and the dog turned into a bear, a swan, an elephant and, finally, the
“Well, I play the piano”, “me too”. “I can balance my cane on my chin!”; “I can hold my breath for two minutes”, “Yeah? Well…I can flip twenty coins off my elbow”. Chase laughed at the absurdity of the situation, “I build model houses”, “Aircraft are better,” House stated, “cooler colours”.
The doctors passed the joint back and forth and talked amongst themselves. Both had broken bones during childhood (House’s left arm and Chase’s collar bone – though neither said how), both had pets as kids (Chase’s beloved Golden Retriever, Sydney, and House’s mutt, Rudy) and both had mixed emotions when it came to horror movies (House loved them to the point of obsession, but was always a little disappointed and Chase was mortally terrified of them, but also secretly excited),
House smoked the last of the second joint and sent the roach to meet its brother. “Hey, how’d we get down here?” Chase patted the cold ground upon which they were now both sitting. House shrugged, his right leg stretched out in front of him ad his left let bent at the knee. “You know what? It’s kind of funny, but I’m…” Chase was cut off by a rustling, “Hungry”, he finished, taking the packet of chips House thrust toward him. “Oh, Fritos! You know, these were the first American chips I tried when I got here. I kind of got addicted to them. They’re better than…Well, almost everything”. “Not better than Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups”, House laughed, popping a chip into his mouth. “Oh, yes they are, those things don’t even have real peanut butter in them”, Chase reasoned. “OK, then, Fritos aren’t better than Skittles”, “Yes they are, but they’re not better than Curly-Wurlys”. The older doctor laughed hard, “What the hell is that?” Chase looked offended, “A Curly-Wurly is the best thing ever. Its chocolate coated caramel twisted into a double helix. Hence the name. You should try one some time”. He smiled at the thought of his favourite Australian confectionary.
House tossed one of the chips into the air and tried to catch it in his mouth, but it bounced off his eyebrow instead. He then threw it at Chase to stop him laughing. Curing the munchies turned into a competition to see who could flick the Fritos furthest across the roof. Chase won, but only because House was using his “cane hand”. A pithy excuse.
The doctors were interrupted by their beepers. The patient was almost ready to come out of surgery. Chase got to his feets and stretched. House braced himself against the wall and pushed up with his left leg. Watching the older man’s struggle, Chase offered him a hand and, for a brief second, House paused, but took it and got to his feet.
“You OK to go back downstairs?” House queried. Chase nodded, “I think so. Still hungry”. House chuckled, “grilled cheese would go down pretty well right now”.
House and Chase walked down the first flight of echoey stairs. Chase’s voice was the first to reverberate off the walls, “that was cool, though”. “Hate to admit it, but it kind of was”. “Maybe it could happen again?” Chase hoped. “Maybe,” House smiled, “I’ll have to talk to