"You're gonna smoke it with me, aren't you, Vic?" he asked, following me.

I stopped in the living room and kicked off my hiking boots.

"Huh, Vic? How about it?" He walked around me and plopped himself down on the couch, which was even greasier than the carpet, if that was possible. "It'll be just like old times."

A towering, purple bong sat at his feet, ready to go. I sat down in the easy chair across from him, rubbing my temples.

It's coming.

"Sure," I said, finally. "Just like old times."