August 22, 1936
Title: August 22, 1936
Author: Manchester
Rating: FR15
Crossover: Reefer Madness
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Reefer Madness characters are the property of their original owners. Though in the latter case, since this black-and-white film’s in the public domain, I can change anything I like about it! Bwahahaha!
Summary: Yes, he inhaled.
All Spike did was to walk down the bloody street.
The next thing he knew, a sonorous voice coming from out of nowhere spoke right into his ear, “Observe this upstanding young man with his entire life ahead of him--”
“What the hell?!” Spike blurted out, frantically spinning around on the deserted night-time sidewalk in search of whomever had just managed to sneak up on him. Except, as already noted, there was nobody at all within sight anywhere in Spike’s vicinity.
The vampire made another slow full turn on his feet, giving the entire quiet and peaceful neighborhood a very mistrustful glower. Spike’s current location, a somewhat run-down street with cheap apartment buildings lining both sides of this avenue, looked like a thousand other places late tonight in the American northeast trying to get through the Great Depression. People living here right now were in the main fast asleep in their apartment beds and dreaming of hopefully better times in the future.
No, wait a second... Spike’s head turned to one particular apartment a few doors up, which had its front window shades shut tight. There was still an evident glow from the lamps inside this residence, along with gleeful laughter and other sounds of loud jazz music and enthusiastic dancing. To the vampire’s heightened senses, all of this indicated some sort of party or other festive gathering was going on in there at the moment with more than a few people having a lot of fun tonight.
Spike licked his lips. Come to think of it, a bite to eat would be nice. He took a single step forward--
“Alas,” intoned the same resonant voice coming from thin air. “The lure of the den of iniquity just ahead has unfortunately caught this naive youth’s attention.”
Now really annoyed, Spike cursed under his breath, “Dammit! Who’s there?!” He glared about in all directions, still without any luck whatsoever in locating the mysterious narrator. In the middle of this, Spike’s irritated face abruptly altered into actual interest. He meditatively repeated, “Den of iniquity, eh?”
Cautiously taking another step towards that indicated apartment, Spike hesitated before giving a bemused shrug when this didn’t provoke another dramatic declaration. He kept walking onwards, easily following the noises from his just-chosen destination. Soon enough, Spike found himself in front of the apartment’s door. Giving a tentative sniff, the undead Englishman let an extremely sardonic grin cross his visage. Judging from how strong the pungent smell he was getting from inside there, it was a wonder that heavy wisps of smoke weren’t curling out from the edges of the door.
As if that thought alone had been a signal, the imaginary voice then started sadly proclaiming, “Another poor soul is on the brink of losing every bit of decency they possess to what’s lying in wait for them just beyond. But, it’s not too late! If only they’d come to their senses and turn away from the dangers of what’s termed as the demon weed, a vile element called cannabis but more familiarly known to all too many destroyed families by the dreadful name of...MARIJUANA!”
Wandering through the fragrant haze hanging in the air of his and Mae’s apartment, Jack took a deep puff of his thick, hand-rolled cigarette lacking any trace of tobacco within it. He beamed around at the place packed full of satiated underage high school partiers, most of which had been personally enticed into their drug use by this man living in sin with Mae. Beginning to lift his joint for another hit, Jack blinked at the sudden sounds of a raucous argument going on past the front door.
Too hopped-up to be anything other than mildly interested by this, Jack went over to open the door and see who was late for tonight’s party. He did this just in time to get an earful of “Shut your soddin’ cakehole, you make-believe wanker!” from a blond man standing at the now-ajar threshold and bestowing upon an astonished Jack an exceptionally nasty look.
A second later, that stranger reached out and snatched from Jack’s fingers the marijuana reefer slackly held there. Bringing this addictive substance to his lips, someone which Jack had never seen before in his life now ferociously inhaled, reducing the entire cigarette into ashes with one single lungful of air.
There was a brief pause among the pair at the door, while the party in the apartment went on unnoticed behind these two men. Then, the newcomer had a blissful look appear on his handsome face. He amiably remarked, “Fine stuff there, mate. You got any more?”
Brightening up at the prospect of a new customer, Jack nodded. He went on to say, “Yeah, mister, the first sample’s on the house, but it’ll cost you a few bucks for another one of those. If you can pay, you can stay.”
At this unexpected rhyme from Jack, both men shared a delighted giggle, before the stranger good-naturedly announced while he reached into a pants pocket and then displayed the handful of dollar bills he’d just pulled out from there, “Not a problem, see? Now, my name’s Spike, and I’m here to smoke some weed!”
A couple of hours later, the party was mostly over. All of the juveniles busily working on their latest delinquencies had staggered home earlier, leaving behind only Jack, Mae who’d passed out in the bedroom, and Ralph, one of Jack’s fellow dealers. Those merchants of mary jane were counting up the money they’d made tonight in thoroughly corrupting the community’s youngsters when Ralph jerked a thumb towards a far corner of the living room. There, a seated man in an out-and-out stupor didn’t react at all to this gesture directed at him.
“Who’s the new guy?” inquired Ralph about the individual occupying an armchair while blankly staring at the half-consumed cigarette cupped in his right hand.
Jack shrugged. “Somebody called Sid or Slick, I forget which. Who cares? He put away more dope than anyone else I’ve ever met, and best of all, he paid cash on the barrelhead for it.”
Stepping away from Ralph, Jack then headed over to what’s-his-name and stopped in front of the man in his chair. Leaning forward to wave a hand in front of a most unfocused gaze, Jack cheerfully told him, “Listen, fella, time for you to leave. You’re always welcome to drop by when we have another party, as long as you’ve got the money ready. C’mon, up on your feet. I’ll help you out the door.”
A minute or so later, Spike looked down to entrancedly watch his boots rise and fall while he lurched down the street. Among all this, the vampire had a niggling concern trying to break through the really dense marijuana miasma blurring his mind. Squinting around the slowly-brightening neighborhood, Spike at length dismissed the sense of subconscious peril desperately trying to attract his attention.
Ahead of Spike now facing due east, the morning clouds on the horizon broke apart to reveal the rising sun, with the rays of this glowing orb flashing right at the vulnerable vampire.
“Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!”
With his exposed flesh beginning to smoke, a screaming Spike hastily scuttled into the nearest alley with its shielding shadows. Continuing his desperate search for some protection from the sun’s deadly light, this now-sober English demon dove right into a handy garbage pile. With frantic sweeps of his arms, he entirely buried himself at the bottom of this reeking heap of refuse.
Just at the point when he was completely hidden from sight, a thankful Spike felt his seared skin starting to recover. However, at the same time, a smugly satisfied voice spoke into a singed ear: “And now, this contemptible wrongdoer must face the consequences of his actions. Just as he’s presently wallowing in the filth of what other people have thrown away, his ruined life which is all due to the reckless use of marijuana now mirrors the spoiled chances and opportunities to be a fine, upstanding citizen.”
“YOU--!!” began Spike’s indignant roar, only for him to hurriedly clamp his mouth shut in sullen silence. All he needed at this point was for some curious resident or policeman on his beat to investigate the angry retorts coming from under a rubbish tip. The appalled vampire then understood that he was stuck here until nightfall, and that toffee-nosed bastard somehow lecturing him wasn’t going to pass this chance up!
Indeed, the patronizing voice began again. “As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, the horrible results of such an immoral substance as cannabis should be a warning to everyone, particularly our children. They, above all, must be protected from the poison that is illicit drugs! Which leads us to my next topic, how to safeguard the next generation from the loathsome temptations of marijuana. Please make yourselves comfortable; this shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours.”
*I’m going to hunt that pillock down,* mentally vowed Spike slumping with increasing gloom on his back inside the garbage pile while the other voice in his head continued to drone on and on. *If it takes every bit of magic I can buy, threaten, or torture some bloody witch or mage into casting, that’s fine! Just so as long as it works!*
A short while later, Dr. Alfred Carroll came to the end of his filmed lecture to a PTA meeting. This distinguished-looking high school principal making his appearance on the silver screen then pointed at random parents in the audience while portentously warning them, “The next tragedy may be that of your daughter’s…or your son’s…or yours, or yours…” finishing off with extending his finger directly at the camera filming him, “…or YOURS!”
In the very next second, an incredible being came rushing from off-screen into view of the camera. This man-like creature had a ridged face, glowing yellow eyes, and bestial fangs. From among those razor-sharp teeth came a triumphant bellow, “All right, you sanctimonious bastard, it’s finally time for you to die, but most important, to soddin’ shut up!”
At that point, the camera was dropped onto the auditorium floor, catching on film from then on only a scene of stampeding feet as the crowd for tonight’s lecture ran for their own lives. What did get captured were the horrific sounds of murder being done by Spike the vampire, who well afterwards lit up with immense satisfaction and bloodstained fingers to then puff away at the fattest reefer ever rolled.
Author: Manchester
Rating: FR15
Crossover: Reefer Madness
Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and Reefer Madness characters are the property of their original owners. Though in the latter case, since this black-and-white film’s in the public domain, I can change anything I like about it! Bwahahaha!
Summary: Yes, he inhaled.
All Spike did was to walk down the bloody street.
The next thing he knew, a sonorous voice coming from out of nowhere spoke right into his ear, “Observe this upstanding young man with his entire life ahead of him--”
“What the hell?!” Spike blurted out, frantically spinning around on the deserted night-time sidewalk in search of whomever had just managed to sneak up on him. Except, as already noted, there was nobody at all within sight anywhere in Spike’s vicinity.
The vampire made another slow full turn on his feet, giving the entire quiet and peaceful neighborhood a very mistrustful glower. Spike’s current location, a somewhat run-down street with cheap apartment buildings lining both sides of this avenue, looked like a thousand other places late tonight in the American northeast trying to get through the Great Depression. People living here right now were in the main fast asleep in their apartment beds and dreaming of hopefully better times in the future.
No, wait a second... Spike’s head turned to one particular apartment a few doors up, which had its front window shades shut tight. There was still an evident glow from the lamps inside this residence, along with gleeful laughter and other sounds of loud jazz music and enthusiastic dancing. To the vampire’s heightened senses, all of this indicated some sort of party or other festive gathering was going on in there at the moment with more than a few people having a lot of fun tonight.
Spike licked his lips. Come to think of it, a bite to eat would be nice. He took a single step forward--
“Alas,” intoned the same resonant voice coming from thin air. “The lure of the den of iniquity just ahead has unfortunately caught this naive youth’s attention.”
Now really annoyed, Spike cursed under his breath, “Dammit! Who’s there?!” He glared about in all directions, still without any luck whatsoever in locating the mysterious narrator. In the middle of this, Spike’s irritated face abruptly altered into actual interest. He meditatively repeated, “Den of iniquity, eh?”
Cautiously taking another step towards that indicated apartment, Spike hesitated before giving a bemused shrug when this didn’t provoke another dramatic declaration. He kept walking onwards, easily following the noises from his just-chosen destination. Soon enough, Spike found himself in front of the apartment’s door. Giving a tentative sniff, the undead Englishman let an extremely sardonic grin cross his visage. Judging from how strong the pungent smell he was getting from inside there, it was a wonder that heavy wisps of smoke weren’t curling out from the edges of the door.
As if that thought alone had been a signal, the imaginary voice then started sadly proclaiming, “Another poor soul is on the brink of losing every bit of decency they possess to what’s lying in wait for them just beyond. But, it’s not too late! If only they’d come to their senses and turn away from the dangers of what’s termed as the demon weed, a vile element called cannabis but more familiarly known to all too many destroyed families by the dreadful name of...MARIJUANA!”
Wandering through the fragrant haze hanging in the air of his and Mae’s apartment, Jack took a deep puff of his thick, hand-rolled cigarette lacking any trace of tobacco within it. He beamed around at the place packed full of satiated underage high school partiers, most of which had been personally enticed into their drug use by this man living in sin with Mae. Beginning to lift his joint for another hit, Jack blinked at the sudden sounds of a raucous argument going on past the front door.
Too hopped-up to be anything other than mildly interested by this, Jack went over to open the door and see who was late for tonight’s party. He did this just in time to get an earful of “Shut your soddin’ cakehole, you make-believe wanker!” from a blond man standing at the now-ajar threshold and bestowing upon an astonished Jack an exceptionally nasty look.
A second later, that stranger reached out and snatched from Jack’s fingers the marijuana reefer slackly held there. Bringing this addictive substance to his lips, someone which Jack had never seen before in his life now ferociously inhaled, reducing the entire cigarette into ashes with one single lungful of air.
There was a brief pause among the pair at the door, while the party in the apartment went on unnoticed behind these two men. Then, the newcomer had a blissful look appear on his handsome face. He amiably remarked, “Fine stuff there, mate. You got any more?”
Brightening up at the prospect of a new customer, Jack nodded. He went on to say, “Yeah, mister, the first sample’s on the house, but it’ll cost you a few bucks for another one of those. If you can pay, you can stay.”
At this unexpected rhyme from Jack, both men shared a delighted giggle, before the stranger good-naturedly announced while he reached into a pants pocket and then displayed the handful of dollar bills he’d just pulled out from there, “Not a problem, see? Now, my name’s Spike, and I’m here to smoke some weed!”
A couple of hours later, the party was mostly over. All of the juveniles busily working on their latest delinquencies had staggered home earlier, leaving behind only Jack, Mae who’d passed out in the bedroom, and Ralph, one of Jack’s fellow dealers. Those merchants of mary jane were counting up the money they’d made tonight in thoroughly corrupting the community’s youngsters when Ralph jerked a thumb towards a far corner of the living room. There, a seated man in an out-and-out stupor didn’t react at all to this gesture directed at him.
“Who’s the new guy?” inquired Ralph about the individual occupying an armchair while blankly staring at the half-consumed cigarette cupped in his right hand.
Jack shrugged. “Somebody called Sid or Slick, I forget which. Who cares? He put away more dope than anyone else I’ve ever met, and best of all, he paid cash on the barrelhead for it.”
Stepping away from Ralph, Jack then headed over to what’s-his-name and stopped in front of the man in his chair. Leaning forward to wave a hand in front of a most unfocused gaze, Jack cheerfully told him, “Listen, fella, time for you to leave. You’re always welcome to drop by when we have another party, as long as you’ve got the money ready. C’mon, up on your feet. I’ll help you out the door.”
A minute or so later, Spike looked down to entrancedly watch his boots rise and fall while he lurched down the street. Among all this, the vampire had a niggling concern trying to break through the really dense marijuana miasma blurring his mind. Squinting around the slowly-brightening neighborhood, Spike at length dismissed the sense of subconscious peril desperately trying to attract his attention.
Ahead of Spike now facing due east, the morning clouds on the horizon broke apart to reveal the rising sun, with the rays of this glowing orb flashing right at the vulnerable vampire.
“Aaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!”
With his exposed flesh beginning to smoke, a screaming Spike hastily scuttled into the nearest alley with its shielding shadows. Continuing his desperate search for some protection from the sun’s deadly light, this now-sober English demon dove right into a handy garbage pile. With frantic sweeps of his arms, he entirely buried himself at the bottom of this reeking heap of refuse.
Just at the point when he was completely hidden from sight, a thankful Spike felt his seared skin starting to recover. However, at the same time, a smugly satisfied voice spoke into a singed ear: “And now, this contemptible wrongdoer must face the consequences of his actions. Just as he’s presently wallowing in the filth of what other people have thrown away, his ruined life which is all due to the reckless use of marijuana now mirrors the spoiled chances and opportunities to be a fine, upstanding citizen.”
“YOU--!!” began Spike’s indignant roar, only for him to hurriedly clamp his mouth shut in sullen silence. All he needed at this point was for some curious resident or policeman on his beat to investigate the angry retorts coming from under a rubbish tip. The appalled vampire then understood that he was stuck here until nightfall, and that toffee-nosed bastard somehow lecturing him wasn’t going to pass this chance up!
Indeed, the patronizing voice began again. “As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, the horrible results of such an immoral substance as cannabis should be a warning to everyone, particularly our children. They, above all, must be protected from the poison that is illicit drugs! Which leads us to my next topic, how to safeguard the next generation from the loathsome temptations of marijuana. Please make yourselves comfortable; this shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours.”
*I’m going to hunt that pillock down,* mentally vowed Spike slumping with increasing gloom on his back inside the garbage pile while the other voice in his head continued to drone on and on. *If it takes every bit of magic I can buy, threaten, or torture some bloody witch or mage into casting, that’s fine! Just so as long as it works!*
A short while later, Dr. Alfred Carroll came to the end of his filmed lecture to a PTA meeting. This distinguished-looking high school principal making his appearance on the silver screen then pointed at random parents in the audience while portentously warning them, “The next tragedy may be that of your daughter’s…or your son’s…or yours, or yours…” finishing off with extending his finger directly at the camera filming him, “…or YOURS!”
In the very next second, an incredible being came rushing from off-screen into view of the camera. This man-like creature had a ridged face, glowing yellow eyes, and bestial fangs. From among those razor-sharp teeth came a triumphant bellow, “All right, you sanctimonious bastard, it’s finally time for you to die, but most important, to soddin’ shut up!”
At that point, the camera was dropped onto the auditorium floor, catching on film from then on only a scene of stampeding feet as the crowd for tonight’s lecture ran for their own lives. What did get captured were the horrific sounds of murder being done by Spike the vampire, who well afterwards lit up with immense satisfaction and bloodstained fingers to then puff away at the fattest reefer ever rolled.