(no subject)
Dad and I are waiting in line at the post office, discussing for the millionth time the psychological and social effects (or lack thereof) of habitual marijuana use.
Me: I just don't think drugs are good for people.
Dad: Well, when you come right down to it, that mint chocolate chip ice cream you eat isn't exactly food for your soul.
Me: Yeah, but when I'm at school I don't eat ice cream and I don't miss it. I'm not addicted to ice cream.
Woman in front of us in line: I am!
Ian has just read us a short story he has written, beginning with the memorable line, "One day in North Carolina there was five feet of snow."
Ian: I'm so good at writing stories. Funny, too.
Dad: And modest.
Ian: I'll take that as a compliment.
Me: I just don't think drugs are good for people.
Dad: Well, when you come right down to it, that mint chocolate chip ice cream you eat isn't exactly food for your soul.
Me: Yeah, but when I'm at school I don't eat ice cream and I don't miss it. I'm not addicted to ice cream.
Woman in front of us in line: I am!
Ian has just read us a short story he has written, beginning with the memorable line, "One day in North Carolina there was five feet of snow."
Ian: I'm so good at writing stories. Funny, too.
Dad: And modest.
Ian: I'll take that as a compliment.