Another series of Holidays survived. The winter Holidays came with some winter weather, relatives, and maybe a dose of borderline personality disorder. The weather had kept Scott indoors adding a touch of cabin fever to the holiday brew. Oh he had a fever alright and the only prescription was some good bud and some laughs with friends. Nothing ordinary would do the job he needed to go see the old Sidewalk Doctor in that dusty old town in Oregon. The old grower had brought back his forgotten classic the "No no". It was named because of the reaction from trying to pass it after a puff or two. The standard for something being called a one hit wonder have been raised. Something is truly good when it still works after smoking extracts all day. THC percentage is not the only contributing factor. The old strain had that pine deep forest smell that brought back some old memories. It might be the creative fuel Scott was looking for. Scott had an overactive imagination and would constantly imagine everything as some kind of scene in a TV show or movie. Having an imagination was one thing but trying to get his imagination into words was a different story. The idea had started with an article he had read wrong in the first place. Not a good start for a writer. He was researching top ways of becoming self employed with very little investment costs. What he thought he read was becoming a writer was something that could be done. Unfortunately he didn't read the entire article otherwise he would have known writing a How To book was what it was actually about. Who knows what the actual steps were to becoming a writer but he could at least embarrass himself trying. He was definitely an expert at embarrassing himself that came natural. Go with what you know is the only real advice he had heard about the subject on some talk show. How hard could it be he thought. Lately it has been true stories and remakes of old ideas. Scott would often come up with his own ideas for sequels or give TV and movie personalities a place in the real world mixed into day dreams. It must be common to imagine oneself in a fictional role like a musician that could bring people to tears with a sad old song. The old Sidewalk Doctor had lost some weight hopefully he wasn't sick. It was always a good visit with a comical light hearted tone with the old grower. It seemed he enjoyed his rebel status like a modern moonshine still operator. The American way is to make as much as possible and pay as little tax as possible. Uncle Sam will still get his one way or another. The old grower was supposedly some bad ass in Vietnam but Scott had not heard any of those stories. If it were something he wanted to talk about Scott would listen. Scott was a patient listener and would often enjoy stories from the past. He wondered how much fiction stemmed from some truth. He had smoked another strain called Tuity Fruity at the old growers place he was saving the No No until he got back home. The rain was supposed to turn into freezing rain and black ice later he was on a mission to get to the safety of home. Once home Scott made something to eat and started watching a movie. One of those movies with a lot of dialog leading to moments of ultra violence. After a couple of puffs of the No No he had temporarily forgot what he was doing, where he was, and why he was there. It turned out he wasn't a secret agent that knew Karate. After about an hour of listening to the first few minutes of songs on a play list he realized he was not accomplishing what he set out to do. It was like a crime scene with junk food wrappers everywhere and whatever mystery powder cheese chips are coated with. It reminded him of the neighbor kid telling him that he was a ware wolf that wouldn't remember anything and wake up with dead cats surrounding him in vacant lots. The same neighbor had drug him along trying to sell used spark plugs and dirt he had sifted with an old window screen in his lawn less yard. Someone eventually felt sorry for him and gave him a couple bucks. Scott wondered about how to bring creative writing to life. Even bad movies like Scream Blackula Scream are fairly well written. Voodoo vampire with a back story. Luckily like everyone else these days he kept his brain electronically stored in his pocket. He could teach himself how to develop characters and come up with stuff they might talk about. Scott was clever and wondered if this could cause him trouble. What if he comes up with a terrorist plot and someone brings it into reality. Who knows why people are influenced by things. Why do crazy people often have certain books? Maybe it was time to go to that mental happy place. Driving five deep in on of the old bubble Honda Accord from the early 80's packed full of ruff looking loggers singing Four Non Blondes song "What's Going On?" with enthusiasm. Maybe videos on the Internet could be useful. If you could use it to fix snowmobile carburetors than surely writing could be broken down into steps. Head first into a shallow pond is probably an effective way to test depth. In these everyone gets a trophy for showing up days how hard could it be. Scott and his imagination were about to lead to another life lesson in stupidity if nothing else.