Space Jam Creative Writing

Ah summer 93'. My older brother and I were getting home from a Grateful Dead show. That's me wearing the t-shirt turban. I had just finished being the bottom half of a human totem pole somewhere between a stoned man's greased dungarees and a roach littered general admission mud pit. You can tell I was feeling good about it. Some say smoking that many blunts out in the open as a five year old could have serious repercussions for my irresponsible copulaters back home, but if my parents taught me anything it was to say, "fuck the man." The kid next to me, who looks like the whimsical creature in basketball shorts that Jordan sang about in Space Jam, is my bro, Andrew. That shit eating grin on his face is because he just dumped a baggy of crushed