Smiley Face

---

This is the story

of how a person

got from point A

to point Z.

Some call it fate,

others, chance.

But whatever

you call it,

it sure is an interesting

thing to ponder, don't

you think?

The twisted paths

our lives follow.

How did you get here?

The place where you are

right now at this

very moment.

What series of events

brought you to

this place?

At this specific

point in time?

Where are you in life?

Are things turning out

the way you'd planned?

And by the way,

when was the last time

you spoke with

your parents?

Don't you think

you ought to give

them a call?

To thank them

for the set

of circumstances

that brought

them together,

at a certain place,

at a certain

moment in time,

when you

were created.

Uhh,

what were we

talking about?

How you

got here.

Yeah.

Jesus Christ,

l can't believe

l'm still so--

uh,

Stoned?

Yeah !

A glass of orange juice

sure would hit the spot

about now, wouldn't it?

And some Tostitos.

That's it!

Oh, man !

That's exactly

what l'm thinking !

OJ and Tostitos!

Jesus!

lt's like you're

reading my thoughts

or something !

l am.

Whoa.

So go on.

What am

l thinking

about now?

Well, there are many

thoughts racing through

your head.

The first concerns

the orange juice

and Tostitos.

Yeah.

And the second,

the second thought,

oh, how it vexes you.

Uh-huh.

What is it?

lt is this.

Why are you having

a conversation with

Roscoe Lee Browne?

Ha!

Roscoe Lee?

Holy sh*t!

You're famous!

Yes, l am.

l can't f***ing

believe l'm having

a conversation

with Roscoe

Lee Browne!

Okay. Ready

for number three?

You bet l

am, Roscoe.

bYour third thought

is simply this :
/b

bHow in the hell/b

did l end up

on a ferris wheel?

How did

you know that?

Because, you

f***ing pothead,

you're talking

to yourself.

Sh*t. How the hell

did l get here?

bl guess maybe it was/b

a little early

in the morning to

be getting stoned.

But whatever,

you know.

lt's not like

l just sit around

collecting checks

from my parents

or something.

l did that regional

soda ad a while back,

Doctor Bjorn's Famous

Old-Fashioned Root Beer.

Maybe you saw

it? Anyhow,

between that

and unemployment l

get by. Bla-bla-bla.

All l know

is this game is

so f***ing cool

when you're high.

They say a true pothead

stops getting the munchies

after a certain point.

l mean, a true pothead

wouldn't even say

the word ''munchies. ''

l don't know

what the true

pothead would say,

''Munchos'' or ''hungries''

or something.

At any rate, l still

love to eat when

l'm high.

So f*** you

if you're too cool

to get hungry

when you're stoned.

My free one year supply

of Doctor Bjorn's.

Neat, huh?

ln the six months

l've lived with my

roommate, Steve,

l've never seen

him get high.

Not once.

He even kind

of looks down

on me for doing it.

God, you are

so pathetic.

H uh?

Here's the deal

with Steve.

He scares me.

Oh, hi, Steve.

See what l mean?

Steve's one of those

''Dress in costume

and wait in line

for Star Wars'' types,

but angry.

Real anti-social.

l've always tried

to stay on Steve's

good side,

who knows what can

happen with a

weirdo like that?

Mm !

Mm !

l know he made

that sign telling

me not to,

but l had a counterplan.

A really good counterplan.

l would bake

Steve some

more cupcakes.

Some even

better cupcakes.

And then,

l recognized

the true nature

of the cupcakes

l had consumed.

Oh, sh*t.

Oh, f***.

Listen, Jane.

l really busted

my ass

getting you this

audition so please,

please, please

don't f*** it up.

lt seems like you

don't even give

a sh*t about

any of this.

Do you?

Do you even

give a sh*t?

l give a sh*t.

Plan. . . need a plan.

My plan.

Number one.

Buy more pot.

You know,

so l can make more

cupcakes for Steve.

bNumber two :
use

the money Steve left/b

for the power bill to

purchase said pot.

That way l

can bake some

fresh cupcakes

before he gets back.

Then l'll go

to my audition.

bl mean, number three :

go to my audition./b

l've never been

to an audition

this stoned before.

but l'd be willing to wager

that l'd be damned good

because l'll be even

more in touch with

my creative selfl

That's not really

a part of the plan.

Scratch that.

bFour :
hit the cash machine,

zip on over to pay

that power bill,/b

pick up cupcake

supplies at the store

and head on back

to home base to

bake 'em up.

Not bad. . . for a person

who happens to

be quite stoned.

You're baked.

No.

What makes

you think that?

J ust, you

know, the usual.

Actually, you

better make it

a full ounce.

l 'm gonna

be making

some cupcakes.

You got it.

What's going on

over there?

Who's there?

ls someone

in my apartment?

Man, you really

are stoned.

bNumber one :

Buy more pot./b

You're like

Can l just--

you know--

Goddamn it, Jane,

this is the last time.

You have to pay

me back today.

No problem-o.

l 'm marking

it down--

in the book.

l just gotta hit

the cash machine,

my man.

lt's all

about capitalism

and sh*t like

that, you know?

Who creates the jobs?

Where do they

come from?

The profits

l make,

for example,

trickle down through

the economy in ways

l can't even comprehend.

lt makes sense.

l 'm totally vibing

you, dude.

Yeah, simple Reaganomics

apply to the production

of hemp.

Well, l don't think

that really qualifies

as Reaganomics, but--

What are you

talking about?

Just because

weed isn't taxed

doesn't mean

it exists in

some sort of,

you know, laissez

faire paradigm

or whatever.

Did you just

use ''paradigm''

in a sentence?

Yeah, man.

l mean,

what you do

is great and all,

God bless you

for it, but it sounds

like plain old market

capitalism to me.

lt's Reaganomics.

Trust me.

What about it

is Reaganomics? The

black market isn't taxed.

Listen, Jane,

you're f***ing stoned

and l happen to be

very knowledgeable

about this.

Whoopee! You

own a U V lamp. Let's

start the revolution !

What the f*** do

you know about

economics anyway?

Well. . . l majored

in economics

in college

and graduated

f***ing Summa.

l think l know

a thing or two

about it.

l thought you

were an actress.

Economics didn't

really work out.

This is

where l 'll be.

Meet me there with

the money at

three o'clock.

Yeah.

Okay.

What is this?

l 've never even

heard of half of

these movies.

Oh.

Actually, my

roommate's hosting this

science fiction

nerd convention

this weekend

with his buddies

flying in from

Toledo and--

Hey!

Three o'clock!

Meet me in Venice

with the money

at three.

Do not make me send

my associates

over here

to collect

the hard way.

You mean,

like kill me?

No, Jesus.

Of course not.

So you'll probably

just break my

arms, then?

Break your arms?

Janey, what

the f***?

l 'm a dude

who sells weed,

l 'm not Tony

f***ing Soprano.

Well, what then?

l don't know.

Take your furniture,

or something.

Hmm.

So, Jane,

what's the deal

with your roommate?

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