I would say everyone knows that teenagers are FUCKING STUPID. Everyone except for teenagers, that is.

When you are of that magically volatile age, you are convinced that you are a damn criminal mastermind. A cagey creature that has unbelievable secrets that no one could possibly know unless you tell them.

No, Tommy the Teenager, you smell like ganja and EVERYONE has noticed. Seriously... everyone. You're not fooling us with that 30 minute "shower', either.

Everyone has been caught doing something they shouldn't, and I am not different, except mine usually befall in hilarious circumstance.
Here is one such story.

One night, my best friend Carrie, and I had the brilliant idea to meet with two other people and "smoke a fatty".

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As you can see, we were shining examples of subtly.

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Not really a big deal when it comes to the idea itself, but it was our execution that probably could have used some reworking.

Carrie had a huge van at this time, in which we had removed the back seats and placed a mattress and blanket. The outside was speckled with bingo paint in the form of polka dots and "tic-tac-toe" boards... had our names emblazoned across it in chipped and sunbaked red. It was not the most... inconspicuous car on the planet. So naturally, we were gonna smoke in that.

I would love to say that this was the limitation of our bad choices for the evening, however, it wasn't.

We decided that the perfect place to park it for a hotbox was right in front of my dad's house, at midnight, directly under a streetlight in the middle of a suburban neighborhood.

See, my thinking was that no one would call the cops because they are used to seeing this majestic eyesore at all hours of the night and it wouldn't raise suspicion. At least I was right on that account.
However, I forgot to extrapolate the variable that was a father of a teenage daughter. That is, my dad.

Our friends arrived and presented to us a blunt of thickness not unlike that of a summer sausage and the festivities were underway.

We were getting absolutely baked. Totally annihilated. Carrie and I were both lightweights and we were smoking with professionals, attempting to keep up. I was on ember watch with a bottle of water, and Carrie was in charge of dank patrol, also known as "holding a can of febreeze".

Suddenly, our smoking guests started laughing and said

Hey, man, your dad is coming.

I responded that it wasn't funny, as I coughed up a portion of lung. I happened to glance up, and sure as shit, here comes a very pissed looking father. Storming the driveway like it was Normandy.

The panic struck. I threw the blunt in the back of the van and beat it to death with a shoe. I don't know what I thought this was going to solve.

Things were about to get interesting.

Before I could do anymore to hide the evidence of our shenanigans, my dad was at the side of the van, peering into a steel box of bad choices. Occupancy? Four.

Before I knew what was happening I hear the door handle click, the sounds of it sliding back on the track, I squeezed my eyes closed for just a moment. When I opened them again, I saw something horrible I hadn't considered.

A wave of smoke, billowing out the door, backlit by the aforementioned streetlight, completely obscuring the details of my father. All that remained was a silhouette of a six foot something man, arms crossed, and although obscured, was visibly seething.

Everything was moving in slow motion for a moment, when I looked to my best friend, hoping for some sort of guidance. Perhaps some sage wisdom my year older counterpart may possess to help me in this time of fear and desperation.

That was when she raised the bottle of febreeze and promptly and without hesitation, sprayed my father in the face.
She then turned her doey, bloodshot eyes to me and nodded.

Crisis averted.

The next few minutes were a blur of yelling, our smoking buddies scampering to their car, and staring up at my dad thinking "He's going to ship me to China in a crate".

After he stormed back to the house, I sat there, watching my best friend giggle and ponder the wonders of the universe, in a deafening silence that usually follows an all out verbal beat down. She looked at me as if nothing had taken place, gasped and said, with a hint of sexual desire:

"dude, we need pancakes."

She was right.

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