Magic Brownies
Chapter 1
Magic Brownies
«Warning: Marijuana use, language, adult themes.
~
Anthony clenched his fists tightly in anger. "…Because Ian," he growled, continuing his argument and raising his voice at his longtime best friend and roommate, "we can't constantly be wasting our time and money on stupid pointless shit that we won't ever use! It's just gonna sit in the garage like all the other stuff you bought!"
"But this could be perfect for a video!" the shorter, brown haired man argued back. "You never know when you'll need a giant inflatable beach set in one of our videos!"
"That's what you said about all the other crap we bought and never ended up using before! Remember we ended up taking it all to Goodwill? This is all we need to buy and that's it." Anthony looked up to the lady in the checkout stand. "I'm sorry my friend here's being a total dick in the ass," he apologized sarcastically.
"God you're pissing me off, Anthony! Seriously, go fuck yourself!" Ian angrily shot back, storming out of the 24 hour market into the parking lot. Anthony rolled his eyes and sighed, all too familiar with Ian's rarely shown on camera tantrums. They were becoming more frequent as of late due to all of the stress Smosh was causing them. It seemed like they were both on edge all the time now. He finished paying and walked out with a plastic bag in hand.
"Ian!" he called out, looking around. He walked to the car but didn't find him there. "Goddammit," he mumbled, putting the bag in his car. Anthony walked back to the entrance, seeing if Ian was nearby. Finally he spotted him in the distance walking on the side of the old building. "Ian!" he yelled out again, but the shorter boy in the navy blue sweater kept walking, unaware he was even being summoned. Anthony started running to him. "I swear that guy…" he muttered under his breath. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked, finally caught up.
"I'm walking home, idiot. What does it look like?" Ian gruffly spat with his hands in his pockets.
"You're the idiot, dumbass! It's dark as fuck out and we live all the way across town, in case you haven't noticed!" Anthony reminded him, slightly exasperated. Ian ignored him and turned down an alleyway, trying to avoid him.
"Ian! Come on! You're being really immature!" Not that this isn't the first time, he thought to himself. Anthony followed him into the dark alleyway. The moonlight gleamed on the craggy and rough surfaces of the broken street while crickets chirped, leaving Anthony with the unsettling feeling of being watched. "Ian," he whispered a little shakily, "this place is looks really fucking sketchy. Let's just go back to the car, fast."
Ian exasperatedly turned back and sighed loudly.
"Fiiiiine. But it's not because I'm scared or anything. The quicker we get home, the sooner we could lock ourselves in our rooms and not see each other til tomorrow."
"Whiny little bitch," Anthony muttered.
"What?!" Ian asked sharply.
"I said fine, let's just go already." They began walking back when Ian noticed something lying beside a dumpster.
"What are you doing, Ian?" Anthony steadily followed him to the dumpster, looking at what caught his friend's attention.
"There's a paper bag right here," Ian said, his anger replaced with sudden fascination.
"So? Come on."
"It's completely dry and it just rained an hour ago," Ian pointed out to the aggravated brown eyed man. Anthony was actually surprised Ian had noticed something like this so quickly in such a dark alley.
"Yeah? Hurry up, let's just go already."
Ian crouched down and picked up the bag. "There could be something useful in it!" he said, chasing after Anthony who was already walking back to the car.
"God dude, don't pick it up! It's probably dog shit or something," he groaned in frustration as they entered the parking lot with Ian still clutching the bag.
"It's kinda heavy," Ian commented. He opened the bag, took out his iPhone and shined the light inside. He instantly let out a surprised whimper and froze in place. Anthony turned around.
"What? What is it?" he asked.
Ian stood in the same spot, staring into the bag and looked up at Anthony, still speechless.
Slightly aggravated, Anthony walked back to him and grabbed the bag out of his hands, peering inside. "Holy shit."
Anthony instantly recognized the green color through the plastic encasing it. His eyes instantly went wide.
"Dude! It's fucking pot! Like a pound of it," Ian glimmered in a low voice, now holding the bag tightly to his chest after snatching it back.
"D-Dude! Put it back where you got it, now!" Anthony hissed, looking over his shoulder. "If we get caught with this I guarantee we're going straight to fucking jail, and that's the last thing we need right now!"
"Anthony. It's weed!" He beamed again, with a slight twinkle to his eye. "Don't you even remember how long it's been since the last time we smoked? Think!"
Anthony did think back, and came to the shocking realization that it had been over two years ago. Two long years without their… inspiration.
"Oh shit, was it really that long ago?" he thought aloud. He was suddenly caught up with the memory of himself and Ian lying around the house holding the video camera, laughing their asses off while trying to motivate themselves to film an episode of Ian is Bored, just dicking around and talking about everything and nothing, and finding it fucking hilarious at the same time. Nothing got accomplished but it was one of the best days of his life.
He hadn't realized until now how much he missed that.
Damn it! How he wanted to relive those memories again, but lately it was getting more and more difficult with their fame rising and having to take on more responsibilities and late night editing sessions. Somehow they just moved away from it altogether and they both kind of just… forgot all about it.
"We're keeping this," Ian smiled, greedily stuffing it into his hoodie, bracing himself for Anthony's protests.
"Okay," Anthony simply replied.
"And you're not gonna try to talk me ou…" He paused. "…Wait. What? Really?" Ian stood, slightly stunned that Anthony so blatantly agreed.
"Yeah, dude."
"O-okay," Ian said, still a little flustered.
"Now let's hurry and get the fuck out of here. This place's shady as fuck," Anthony replied with a shiver.
"Yeah, okay." They walked back to the car, eyes scoping the area out for potential witnesses.
~
The drive home was swift, the heated argument from less than an hour ago long forgotten and replaced with giddy smiles and enticement for what was to come. Ian rushed into the house and set the bag down at the table. Anthony sat down with Ian and was struck with a sudden thought.
"Dude, how do we know it's not laced with something that'll fuck us up? I mean we did just find it out in an alley," Anthony worriedly asked.
"It's fine, don't worry," he reassured him.
"And what was it even doing out there in the first place? What if someone saw us, someone who was looking for it? Seriously dude, I don't wanna get gunned down." Ian saw Anthony's brow furrowing in worry as doubt began to set in.
"Anthony! For fuck's sake, relax. See, this is why you need to smoke now, you're all tense. Now get out your bong."
Anthony paused and bit his bottom lip. Ian watched him look away.
"What now?"
"Well I, uh… kinda had to get rid of it a year and a half ago when my then girlfriend found it and bitched me out. She didn't believe me when I told her it was just a prop for our videos."
"Fuck! How're we gonna do this then? I really wanna smoke a bowl," Ian whined like a child deprived of candy. Anthony thought for a moment, tapping his finger on the desk.
"Hang on a sec. I think I might still have my old glass pipe."
"Oh sweet, dude," Ian grinned.
"Be right back!" Anthony grinned back as he raced to his room to search for it, hurriedly rustling through every drawer and digging through his closet. "Dammit, where the fuck is it," he mumbled, turning the whole area inside-out.
"Anthony!" Ian called out from the other room. "I think I may have found a solution."
Anthony came back and found Ian in the kitchen with a devilish smirk on his face. He started snickering precariously.
"What?"
Ian held up a box of brownie mix.
Anthony's eyes glimmered; a wide smile slowly crept over his face.
"Seriously?"
"Oh, hell yes, my dear Anthony. Tonight, we bake like kings!"
"Uh, I don't think kings baked."
"Damn. Well whatever. I'm tired okay. Shut up."
Ian got everything prepared and preheated the oven.
"Do you even remember how to make them? I mean, you're not exactly the best baker in the world," Anthony asked as Ian mixed the batter.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, dude." Ian answered back, then turned and looked at him, slightly offended. "And I am a pretty damn good baker, thank you very much. I just so happen to be too lazy to bake."
Anthony smiled and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dude. Just hurry up. It's already four in the morning."
"So? We don't usually go to bed until six or seven." Ian poured the batter into the tray and set it in the oven. "Just twenty-five minutes till they get baked. Then," he wiggled his eyebrows, "we get baked. If you know what I mean."
"Twenty five minutes? What are we gonna do for twenty five minutes?" Anthony impatiently asked.
The two paced all over the house in nervous anticipation, waiting. Ian picked up a small green bud from the bag and inhaled the all too familiar aroma.
"Smell it, Ant. Doesn't it just take you back?"
Anthony caught a whiff of the strong intoxicating odor even before Ian brought it up to his nose, fully taking in the rich, herbal smell.
Another memory suddenly began to materialize.
A young, short haired Ian lies on Anthony's bed while the taller in his now classic blue Smosh shirt, re-packs the bowl. His parents are out of town, so they're free to blast rap music and eat junk food all night long. Ian's eyes wander lazily over to Anthony sitting at the foot of the bed, baby blue bloodshot eyes, half-lidded. A permanent smile he can't wipe off his face lingers.
"I'm fuckin' blazed," Ian announces with a snicker. He reaches for the discarded Del Taco bag on the floor, attempting to scavenge for food but rolls off with a yell, and laughs. Anthony laughs along too, flicking his dad's lighter on the cheap plastic bong he stole from his friend Andrew, sucking up the smoke through the pipe. He holds it in for a few seconds then drops to the floor in front of Ian and blows smoke to his face. Ian inhales the air, fresh out of Anthony's lungs and sighs happily.
"That's some good shit," he smiles. Anthony grins back a toothy grin that makes Ian laugh again. "Oh, fuck," Ian says through his giggle spasm.
Anthony feels himself getting hungry. "Any more tacos left?" he asks.
Ian reaches back in the bag, searching through the wadded wrappers and napkins. "Nah, dude."
"Fuck," Anthony curses.
"Me," Ian smiles back.
"What?"
"What."
Silence. They both stare into each others eyes. Then burst out laughing at what feels like the most hilarious thing in the world. When their laughter dies down, they both clamor back onto the bed and Ian takes a hit. Anthony looks at him, carefully studying the way he does it, mesmerized by the thick and heavy smoke swirling around him, filling the room. That light and calming feeling so mellow in the night.
Anthony woke up from the memory by the sound of kitchen timer going off.
"They're finally done!" Ian sang in a high, effeminate voice, scampering into the kitchen. By now the whole house was filled with the delicious aroma of fresh baked double chocolate fudge brownies with a hint of pot. He pulled the tray out of the oven and set it on the stove.
Anthony stood next to him, marveling at the baked square of perfection.
"Mother of God," he murmured gravely. Almost out of nowhere, Ian pulled out a knife and began cutting them into squares.
"I don't care if they need to cool down, I want one right now," Ian exclaimed while picking up a square. "Ow! Fuckin' shit they're hot!"
Anthony laughed. "Try blowing on it."
Ian eyed him with a smirk. "Oh, you would say that."
"Your mom would say that," Anthony smiled back.
Ian ignored the last remark and followed his advice anyway. He then broke his brownie in half and handed the other half to Anthony.
"I feel like this is some momentous occasion that we should be filming or something."
"I know, but we can't risk anyone finding out," Anthony frowned sadly.
"Yeah... Oh well. Ready?" Ian asked, his eyes shifting from the pastry to Anthony's eager brown eyes. Anthony nodded and licked his lips.
"First bite!"
Magic Brownies
«Warning: Marijuana use, language, adult themes.
~
Anthony clenched his fists tightly in anger. "…Because Ian," he growled, continuing his argument and raising his voice at his longtime best friend and roommate, "we can't constantly be wasting our time and money on stupid pointless shit that we won't ever use! It's just gonna sit in the garage like all the other stuff you bought!"
"But this could be perfect for a video!" the shorter, brown haired man argued back. "You never know when you'll need a giant inflatable beach set in one of our videos!"
"That's what you said about all the other crap we bought and never ended up using before! Remember we ended up taking it all to Goodwill? This is all we need to buy and that's it." Anthony looked up to the lady in the checkout stand. "I'm sorry my friend here's being a total dick in the ass," he apologized sarcastically.
"God you're pissing me off, Anthony! Seriously, go fuck yourself!" Ian angrily shot back, storming out of the 24 hour market into the parking lot. Anthony rolled his eyes and sighed, all too familiar with Ian's rarely shown on camera tantrums. They were becoming more frequent as of late due to all of the stress Smosh was causing them. It seemed like they were both on edge all the time now. He finished paying and walked out with a plastic bag in hand.
"Ian!" he called out, looking around. He walked to the car but didn't find him there. "Goddammit," he mumbled, putting the bag in his car. Anthony walked back to the entrance, seeing if Ian was nearby. Finally he spotted him in the distance walking on the side of the old building. "Ian!" he yelled out again, but the shorter boy in the navy blue sweater kept walking, unaware he was even being summoned. Anthony started running to him. "I swear that guy…" he muttered under his breath. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked, finally caught up.
"I'm walking home, idiot. What does it look like?" Ian gruffly spat with his hands in his pockets.
"You're the idiot, dumbass! It's dark as fuck out and we live all the way across town, in case you haven't noticed!" Anthony reminded him, slightly exasperated. Ian ignored him and turned down an alleyway, trying to avoid him.
"Ian! Come on! You're being really immature!" Not that this isn't the first time, he thought to himself. Anthony followed him into the dark alleyway. The moonlight gleamed on the craggy and rough surfaces of the broken street while crickets chirped, leaving Anthony with the unsettling feeling of being watched. "Ian," he whispered a little shakily, "this place is looks really fucking sketchy. Let's just go back to the car, fast."
Ian exasperatedly turned back and sighed loudly.
"Fiiiiine. But it's not because I'm scared or anything. The quicker we get home, the sooner we could lock ourselves in our rooms and not see each other til tomorrow."
"Whiny little bitch," Anthony muttered.
"What?!" Ian asked sharply.
"I said fine, let's just go already." They began walking back when Ian noticed something lying beside a dumpster.
"What are you doing, Ian?" Anthony steadily followed him to the dumpster, looking at what caught his friend's attention.
"There's a paper bag right here," Ian said, his anger replaced with sudden fascination.
"So? Come on."
"It's completely dry and it just rained an hour ago," Ian pointed out to the aggravated brown eyed man. Anthony was actually surprised Ian had noticed something like this so quickly in such a dark alley.
"Yeah? Hurry up, let's just go already."
Ian crouched down and picked up the bag. "There could be something useful in it!" he said, chasing after Anthony who was already walking back to the car.
"God dude, don't pick it up! It's probably dog shit or something," he groaned in frustration as they entered the parking lot with Ian still clutching the bag.
"It's kinda heavy," Ian commented. He opened the bag, took out his iPhone and shined the light inside. He instantly let out a surprised whimper and froze in place. Anthony turned around.
"What? What is it?" he asked.
Ian stood in the same spot, staring into the bag and looked up at Anthony, still speechless.
Slightly aggravated, Anthony walked back to him and grabbed the bag out of his hands, peering inside. "Holy shit."
Anthony instantly recognized the green color through the plastic encasing it. His eyes instantly went wide.
"Dude! It's fucking pot! Like a pound of it," Ian glimmered in a low voice, now holding the bag tightly to his chest after snatching it back.
"D-Dude! Put it back where you got it, now!" Anthony hissed, looking over his shoulder. "If we get caught with this I guarantee we're going straight to fucking jail, and that's the last thing we need right now!"
"Anthony. It's weed!" He beamed again, with a slight twinkle to his eye. "Don't you even remember how long it's been since the last time we smoked? Think!"
Anthony did think back, and came to the shocking realization that it had been over two years ago. Two long years without their… inspiration.
"Oh shit, was it really that long ago?" he thought aloud. He was suddenly caught up with the memory of himself and Ian lying around the house holding the video camera, laughing their asses off while trying to motivate themselves to film an episode of Ian is Bored, just dicking around and talking about everything and nothing, and finding it fucking hilarious at the same time. Nothing got accomplished but it was one of the best days of his life.
He hadn't realized until now how much he missed that.
Damn it! How he wanted to relive those memories again, but lately it was getting more and more difficult with their fame rising and having to take on more responsibilities and late night editing sessions. Somehow they just moved away from it altogether and they both kind of just… forgot all about it.
"We're keeping this," Ian smiled, greedily stuffing it into his hoodie, bracing himself for Anthony's protests.
"Okay," Anthony simply replied.
"And you're not gonna try to talk me ou…" He paused. "…Wait. What? Really?" Ian stood, slightly stunned that Anthony so blatantly agreed.
"Yeah, dude."
"O-okay," Ian said, still a little flustered.
"Now let's hurry and get the fuck out of here. This place's shady as fuck," Anthony replied with a shiver.
"Yeah, okay." They walked back to the car, eyes scoping the area out for potential witnesses.
~
The drive home was swift, the heated argument from less than an hour ago long forgotten and replaced with giddy smiles and enticement for what was to come. Ian rushed into the house and set the bag down at the table. Anthony sat down with Ian and was struck with a sudden thought.
"Dude, how do we know it's not laced with something that'll fuck us up? I mean we did just find it out in an alley," Anthony worriedly asked.
"It's fine, don't worry," he reassured him.
"And what was it even doing out there in the first place? What if someone saw us, someone who was looking for it? Seriously dude, I don't wanna get gunned down." Ian saw Anthony's brow furrowing in worry as doubt began to set in.
"Anthony! For fuck's sake, relax. See, this is why you need to smoke now, you're all tense. Now get out your bong."
Anthony paused and bit his bottom lip. Ian watched him look away.
"What now?"
"Well I, uh… kinda had to get rid of it a year and a half ago when my then girlfriend found it and bitched me out. She didn't believe me when I told her it was just a prop for our videos."
"Fuck! How're we gonna do this then? I really wanna smoke a bowl," Ian whined like a child deprived of candy. Anthony thought for a moment, tapping his finger on the desk.
"Hang on a sec. I think I might still have my old glass pipe."
"Oh sweet, dude," Ian grinned.
"Be right back!" Anthony grinned back as he raced to his room to search for it, hurriedly rustling through every drawer and digging through his closet. "Dammit, where the fuck is it," he mumbled, turning the whole area inside-out.
"Anthony!" Ian called out from the other room. "I think I may have found a solution."
Anthony came back and found Ian in the kitchen with a devilish smirk on his face. He started snickering precariously.
"What?"
Ian held up a box of brownie mix.
Anthony's eyes glimmered; a wide smile slowly crept over his face.
"Seriously?"
"Oh, hell yes, my dear Anthony. Tonight, we bake like kings!"
"Uh, I don't think kings baked."
"Damn. Well whatever. I'm tired okay. Shut up."
Ian got everything prepared and preheated the oven.
"Do you even remember how to make them? I mean, you're not exactly the best baker in the world," Anthony asked as Ian mixed the batter.
"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, dude." Ian answered back, then turned and looked at him, slightly offended. "And I am a pretty damn good baker, thank you very much. I just so happen to be too lazy to bake."
Anthony smiled and rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dude. Just hurry up. It's already four in the morning."
"So? We don't usually go to bed until six or seven." Ian poured the batter into the tray and set it in the oven. "Just twenty-five minutes till they get baked. Then," he wiggled his eyebrows, "we get baked. If you know what I mean."
"Twenty five minutes? What are we gonna do for twenty five minutes?" Anthony impatiently asked.
The two paced all over the house in nervous anticipation, waiting. Ian picked up a small green bud from the bag and inhaled the all too familiar aroma.
"Smell it, Ant. Doesn't it just take you back?"
Anthony caught a whiff of the strong intoxicating odor even before Ian brought it up to his nose, fully taking in the rich, herbal smell.
Another memory suddenly began to materialize.
A young, short haired Ian lies on Anthony's bed while the taller in his now classic blue Smosh shirt, re-packs the bowl. His parents are out of town, so they're free to blast rap music and eat junk food all night long. Ian's eyes wander lazily over to Anthony sitting at the foot of the bed, baby blue bloodshot eyes, half-lidded. A permanent smile he can't wipe off his face lingers.
"I'm fuckin' blazed," Ian announces with a snicker. He reaches for the discarded Del Taco bag on the floor, attempting to scavenge for food but rolls off with a yell, and laughs. Anthony laughs along too, flicking his dad's lighter on the cheap plastic bong he stole from his friend Andrew, sucking up the smoke through the pipe. He holds it in for a few seconds then drops to the floor in front of Ian and blows smoke to his face. Ian inhales the air, fresh out of Anthony's lungs and sighs happily.
"That's some good shit," he smiles. Anthony grins back a toothy grin that makes Ian laugh again. "Oh, fuck," Ian says through his giggle spasm.
Anthony feels himself getting hungry. "Any more tacos left?" he asks.
Ian reaches back in the bag, searching through the wadded wrappers and napkins. "Nah, dude."
"Fuck," Anthony curses.
"Me," Ian smiles back.
"What?"
"What."
Silence. They both stare into each others eyes. Then burst out laughing at what feels like the most hilarious thing in the world. When their laughter dies down, they both clamor back onto the bed and Ian takes a hit. Anthony looks at him, carefully studying the way he does it, mesmerized by the thick and heavy smoke swirling around him, filling the room. That light and calming feeling so mellow in the night.
Anthony woke up from the memory by the sound of kitchen timer going off.
"They're finally done!" Ian sang in a high, effeminate voice, scampering into the kitchen. By now the whole house was filled with the delicious aroma of fresh baked double chocolate fudge brownies with a hint of pot. He pulled the tray out of the oven and set it on the stove.
Anthony stood next to him, marveling at the baked square of perfection.
"Mother of God," he murmured gravely. Almost out of nowhere, Ian pulled out a knife and began cutting them into squares.
"I don't care if they need to cool down, I want one right now," Ian exclaimed while picking up a square. "Ow! Fuckin' shit they're hot!"
Anthony laughed. "Try blowing on it."
Ian eyed him with a smirk. "Oh, you would say that."
"Your mom would say that," Anthony smiled back.
Ian ignored the last remark and followed his advice anyway. He then broke his brownie in half and handed the other half to Anthony.
"I feel like this is some momentous occasion that we should be filming or something."
"I know, but we can't risk anyone finding out," Anthony frowned sadly.
"Yeah... Oh well. Ready?" Ian asked, his eyes shifting from the pastry to Anthony's eager brown eyes. Anthony nodded and licked his lips.
"First bite!"