Yes, the girls were the ultimate grass breathers tonight. Vera was gathering her last brain cell while all the other ones succumbed to the happy chemicals in her system. The pulse and history of bad decisions were rampant in the thirty-year-old crone, but she was somehow still articulate and able to focus her eyes on the seemingly much younger woman. It was numbly delightful to witness that look, that one look Dela harbored was that of a cat on catnip overload.
With her stupidly beautiful face, and her silly remarks, the human daisy was a precious thing to behold. It was no matter how it all started, or how she managed to convince Vera, who wasn’t a drug pusher by nature and in fact might have even put up a little fight; complete with a list of reasons why the blonde shouldn’t even begin to play with something like that. But that crafty woman persuaded her, and, as though by magic, the two were falling deeper down the rabbit hole. Or, in this case, an elephant’s trunk.
“See, I - I can speak elephant,” laughed Vera, wrapping a slender arm around the smaller friend’s shoulders, tears rolling down her cheeks, “it all started back when I - I had to shovel their hella-massive droppings. The piles tended to be so much bigger than my entire eleven-year-old body. My childhood was great.”
She ran her fingers clumsily through her companion’s soft, golden locks; it was just Vera trying to comfort her needlessly as she revealed the threatening nature of such imaginary elephants. Feeling protective, Vera pressed her face into her bosom, and appeared to have grown a mysterious pair of balls as she pouted and narrowed her eyes stupidly: “Aw, are they bullying you? C’mere. Luckily for you, I’m proficient in the language.”
The self-proclaimed elephant whisperer used one arm to symbolize a trunk and in the cringiest fashion possible did she raise that ‘trunk’ to sluggishly stick up a middle finger that wasn’t supposed to be there. She was clearly flipping the bird in the direction of these cursed hallucinations that danced, clapped and played the trombone. “I, Queen of the Pachyderm, am not pleased with your . . . bullshittery. Be gone!”