Back to the highly anticipated, jaw-dropping, teeth-chattering action that we have rightfully come to expect from stories. So, there we were: Poison Pie, The Notorious G., Lynn, and I with Flower, the Bear, who judging by the droop of her eyelids had in the words of the Notorious G., "just smoked the front end off a fatty." "Good one, Mom," I said. I suppose to prove that she wasn't all talk, the Notorious G. busted out her stash right there on the sidewalk, rolled a jay, and toked on the fiery cherry. I was no less shocked than you would have been, had you been there in my place.