Why does this shit always happen to me!?
It was the crack of eve; the persimmon and pink skies above a gentle farmland skyline giving off the last of the daily summer breeze. On the ground, there was a large apple orchard, with many'a rolling hills and the occasional ladder against a tree here and there. The apples were perfectly in bloom and ripe for the picking- honeycrisp, macintosh, really the best kinds of apples.
But fuck the apples, nobody cares about them. What we should be caring about is the fact that Re's car just broke down in the middle of a road that ran through an apple orchard. He was going to head for a city, but wasn't paying attention to his gas. Not that he couldn't have carried the car to the nearest service station, but y'know, that ran the risk of damaging the damn thing!
And who would want to damage an oldschool, cobalt blue and white striped '68 Mustang? An asshole, that's who. Re was standing in front of the popped hood, checking the oil, dipstick in-hand. "For fuck sake..." Re lividly hissed. There was practically no oil in the engine, so he had to fix that. After he did that really quick, Re found that he had a full container of gas, some Pinesol, a gram of blueberry kush, and his water bong. "Right the fuck on..."
Re could be found from thereon, sitting on the closed hood of the car- trying to light the bowl up in the breeze. And judging by his frequent cursing, it wasn't going well. He had on his person everything he normally would- weapons and all. Re's shortswords were loosely hanging at either side of his hip, his thick sweater hiding the handcannon and rounds he had holstered. "Fucking... light, you son of a-..." And like that, the bowl lit- and he sucked down on the bong like a dirty whore.
Before he even got a puff off, a breeze blew his lighter out and sent the bowl flying into the grass. It took Re a second to realize that there wasn't any smoke in the chamber.
"Huh? Where'd it... OHHHH SON OF A WHOOORE!"
Smoke that tumbleweed.