here's an excerpt from chapter 4, lemme know whatcha think

There wasn’t any better form of entertainment for two young brothers smoking than music. We blazed through videos by Young Jeezy, R. Kelly, Lil Boosie and Common. By the time Soulja Boy came on we was gettin’ crunk. I was rockin’ on the couch but Julian got up to do the whole "crank that" dance right in front of the tv. "Nigga get ya ass from in front of the t.v., I’m tryin’ to see this shit." I was into the video and this dude was fucking with my high. I stood up and succumb to the reefer flowing through my system, overpowered by the song blasting out of Julian’s side-speakers. We went all out on the last chorus, throwing our arms around and snapping and popping so hard I almost dropped the blunt, Julian did drop his. "Party foul my nigga!" I shouted out over the loud music and snatched it up off the ground before he realized he had dropped it. The video ended and Julian sat down on the couch, I dropped down onto the love seat, still puffing on those blunts. "That was a serious party foul offense, damnit. You ain’t hittin ’ these again" I said with a laugh, taking in another long drag from both at the same time. "Screw that" he said, and before I knew what was going on this crazy fool had lept up from the couch. In half a second Julian was on my lap trying to wrestle one of the blunts out of my grip. He strained to keep up but my hands were too quick, and his high ass could barely follow my movements. I relaxed my fingers and let him snatch one of the blunts, half from wanting to share the wealth, half from feeling slightly uncomfortable that a gay dude was straddling me like a rodeo. He went back to the other couch and we smoked those blunts down to little stubs. I don’t remember who had the brilliant idea of going to the gas station at four in the morning, but Julian did say that it was only six blocks up the street and we were both hungry something serious. My head was swirling and my stomach was growling, one look at Julian and I could tell he was in the same shape. "Are you good to walk that far? Six blocks?" I asked. He told me that he was up for it and that we didn’t have much of a choice, he was craving some chips, cookies, pop tarts, fruit punch, Arizona tea, and Chef Boyardee beef noodles. As for myself I was definitely jonesin’ for a peanut butter sandwich, some Lucky Charms and a pack of Lemonheads, the green ones too. I waited in the living room while he threw on a hoodie and some jeans. We were both still high off our asses by the time we were out the door. In twenty minutes we were browsing the Shell station under the watchful eye of the Arab at the counter. We made it out without incident, bulging bags stuffed under each arm. We were fine on the way back until a pitbull quietly crept up from behind the third house from the station and without warning I felt a tug at my back pocket. Just in case I didn’t get what was going on, Julian yelled out "pit!" With that one word we were off like thieves in the night, tearing through front yards, dodging trash bins and leaping over lawn chairs like Olympic champs. Even with his leg still being taped up Julian managed to get ahead of me and I ran the distance of those six blocks in the blink of an eye. By the time we made it back to his apartment I felt like my heart had dropped down into my stomach and was gasping for oxygen. We collapsed into the chairs in his kitchen and after a few seconds of silence just burst into laughter.