On their important quest for marijuana and MexAmerican burritos, Bruce Blingsteen and his Brick Squad cohort Flynn Andrew...you know the rest, hop into Bruce’s matte black Range Rover. For a kid who liked to distance himself from his parents’ squeaky clean, rich appearance, he sure didn’t mind spending their money or driving the cars they bought him.
Flynn drops the sun visor to shield his eyes from the glaring sun, and a small bag of weed drops right down into his lap. He holds it up to Bruce, whose eyes immediately widened with excitement.
â€Oh shit I forgot about that! We’re about to have a good ass time homie.â€
"Sounds dope bro. What kind of green we got? Indica? Sativa? Maybe some hybrid stuff?
â€This is that new shit, they call it ‘Sandstorm.’â€
"Sandstorm? Bro I'm not trying to turn into Ray Charles over here, just get a good high.
â€Nah man, weed’s supposed to help your eyesight I think. They call it that because they found this shit growing out in the middle of Azerbaijan or some shit. It can only be harvested like 3 days of the year because the sandstorms are so bad you can’t even see the shit growing.â€
Did you know that the Caucasus Mountains are also in Azerbaijan?
â€Man what? Fuck couscous. We’re getting some real food up in here. Where can some fine gentlemen such as ourselves procure us some tasty ass burritos though?â€
"Alright bro there's this place called Roburrito. Make a left, then your first right. Go through two lights, then a left on 6th street. You'll see it on the right. It's got a massive burrito for an awning."
Flynn inspects the bag of weed with a grin. He opens the bag and inhales it’s scent through his nose, then throws his head back in disgust.
"Bro this is the worst smelling thing I've ever smelled. Like ever."
â€Right? I took a whiff of that shit when I got it and I almost puked on my dealer.
"Lovely imagery. Is it any good?"
â€I don’t know man, I haven’t rolled any of that shit up yet. Honestly, its kinda sketchy. My dealer said his homie from Turkmenistan tried this shit once and now he can’t even speak no fucking English.’
"You think maybe that's because he's from Turkmenistan?
â€Could be, I dunno. Wouldn’t surprise me. I don’t mean to sound like a racist or anything, but after I found out they watered down the watermelon slurpees at Seven Eleven, I’ve been a little less trusting of the Middle Eastern community.â€
"Bro did you forget about 9/11? Planes flying into buildings and all that? Osama Bin Laden? Al-Qaeda?"
â€Man I ain’t saying all of that, I’m just saying that this fucked with me on a much more personal level. Crashing down them towers was straight bullshit, don’t get me wrong, but you know what it’s like when you’re 3 blunts deep and you want that sweet, syrupy goodness dusting away all them fucking cobwebs and they basically give you a cup of pink fucking water? I’ll never forget 9/11, but 7/11 was all too real for me man.
Flynn shakes his head and the two laugh.
"Man I ain't a doctor but there is something very wrong with you. Like maybe you should get checked out by a professional."
â€Yeah, I’m a bit tweaked sometimes. Yo, is this the place?â€
Bruce points to a large sign that reads ‘El Pollito Loco.’ Flynn shakes his head and before he can give a verbal response, Bruce veers hard into the parking lot, sending Flynn’s head sideways into the car door. Flynn grabs at the side of his head and Bruce laughs at him.
â€I said to put your seatbelt on homie!â€
"No you didn’t.â€
â€Huh. I thought I did. But that shit’s common knowledge man, ain’t you ever see them commercials where it gets all slow motioned and they show a teenage girl getting in some bad fucking accident and then some sad-as-fuck cop steps up and he’s all like ‘If only little Susie were wearing a seatbelt she wouldn’t have gotten all fucked up by that semi!’â€
Flynn chuckles to himself and shakes his head.
â€Too bad man, little Susie was a little hottie before she got her shit wrecked. I would’ve hit. You need to watch more TV man. Hey dog, get your wallet out, we’re up.â€
The Range Rover slowly pulls up to the drive-thru’s speaker. Bruce taps his fingers on the steering wheel and hums the song ‘I Believe In A Thing Called Love’ by the Darkness. Flynn nods his head along to the tune as he carefully transfers a large amount of the Sandstorm into a hollowed out Black & Mild.
"I'm so pumped to smoke this bro you have no idea."
â€Amen man. This shit better be good, I paid a ton for it.â€
"You're parents got cabbage coming out of their ears and besides you're the Xtreme champ now. You can afford it."
â€True that man. Time to holla at the XWF and tell them to pay this man. Hey yo, on the real though, what do you think of that Maria Brink-†The voice behind the speaker cuts him off mid-question.
â€Hola! Welcome to El Pollito Loco! May I take your order?â€
â€Oh shit. Hola mein amigo. Lemme get… Two steak and rice burritos, pinto beans on the side, sour cream all over them bitches, with two sides of guac and pico. Oh yeah, let me get some chips and that habanero queso sauce too.
Bruce leans back in his seat and looks back at Flynn.
â€You’re up bro.â€
"Are you seriously going to eat all that bro?"
â€Man, you’re paying for it, you’re lucky that’s all I’m getting.
"Hey bro. I'd like a sofritas burrito
"What the fuck is a sofritas?"
"It's tofu."
"You ain't one of them weird ass vegans are you?"
"Na bro, just not feeling meat right now. Plus this stuff is high in protein. All the better for getting backed. Science bro. It's all in the science."
Flynn turns back to the man behind the counter to complete his order. After doing so he and Bruce move down to the end of the line where the same man that took their orders is now waiting behind the register.
â€And will that be all gentleman?â€
â€Yo lemme get a large Dr. Pepper too. Gotta wash it all down, right? Make it two.â€
â€And two Dr. Peppers. Your total comes to $34.19, please pull forward to the next window and we’ll have it out to you in a moment. Have a nice day.
â€Damn, this place is expensive.â€
"Well most of that was yours. But it's all good bro. You bought the weed, I bought the burrito. That's how it works."
â€Well we’re even, you know how much gas this thing burns through? You got that shit rolled up yet? We’ll grab the food, post up in the parking lot and hit that bitch while we enjoy our fine ass Mexican American cuisine, you feel me?
"Yo there's a cop sitting over there eyeing us up. This might be a little difficult."
Flynn points out the officer sitting in his squad car, slowly enjoying his lunch. Bruce swears under his breath and starts surveying the street ahead as he pulls up to the next drive thru window. As the woman emerges from the window, Flynn begrudgingly hands over his debit card as Bruce ducks underneath his arm, continuing to look for a new place to pull over and get high. Without breaking his gaze, he reaches his arm out of the car and grabs the food from the cashier, handing it to Flynn as the vehicle pulls out.
"Got any ideas man?"
Oh shit! There’s an empty parking lot right there! We about to get our sandstorm on!â€
The vehicle pulls into the empty parking lot, right underneath the ‘Turner Elementary School’ sign. Bruce pulls into a spot near the building and throws the Range Rover into park. Almost immediately, the pair light up the weed and pass back-and-forth as they each dig into their respective meals. Flynn begins to pack another Black & Mild with the remainder of the Sandstorm as Bruce flips on the radio, to an all too appropriate song.
The pair laugh wildly at the coincidence and continue their feeding frenzy. The second blunt is soon lit and the car begins to fill with smoke. The song on the radio is nearly drowned out by the alternating coughing and laughing from Bruce and Flynn.
Until the cop car pulls into the parking lot.
Oh fuck! It’s the fuzz! Man we’re fucked if he catches us! We gotta get out of here.â€
"Where the heck would we even go?"
Just then, Bruce notices one of the doors to the building propped open by an upturned mop bucket draining it’s content into a sewer drain.
â€In the building! Run!â€
The two fling their doors open, releasing a plume of weed smoke from the vehicle, and bolt into the building, slamming the door shut. The police cruiser drives past the now-abandoned vehicle and pulls around to the front of the building, catching a glimpse of the hundreds of students returning into the building at the beckon of the recess bell.
Bruce and Flynn run through the hallways as fast as they can, skidding to a stop when the main doors fling open and the parade of young children begin their afternoon stampede into class.
â€Shit!â€
"Doorway! Go! Go! Go!"
They break for the door on the other side of the hallway and slam it shut behind them. On one end of the room a door labeled 'Stairs-Boiler room' is slightly ajar. Flynn starts heading toward it but Bruce emphatically shakes his head and points to an air duct on the wall above an empty shelving unit. Flynn shakes his head no and points back to the boiler room door and motions for him to come with.
â€Fuck that, man! Haven't you ever seen Nightmare on Elm Street!? Air duct is the way to go, get our John McClane on!"
"No way bro, I have claustrophobia."
â€The fear of Germans?"
"Nah bro, I think that's Klaüsetrophobia."
"Whatever man, dude with knife fingers down there is way less chill than a bunch of German dust bunnies!"
They are cut off by the door handle beginning to turn. Flynn immediately bolts towards the boiler room door, throwing it open and disappearing down the steps. Bruce groans and shakes his head, scurries up the shelving units and throws open vent to the duct, disappearing behind it.
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