The sweet smell of vanilla filled the bedroom as the incense burned. Three young men were occupying the room. The larger man, with shoulder length blonde hair, closed and locked the door behind him. He turned too quickly as his steel toe boot accidently hit the light blue colored wall. The other two were quick to wave their hands in downward motion. All three strained their ears to listen and were met by deafening silence with muffled snores from the next room. A sigh of relief was unanimous.

 “Keep it down, you lummox,” whispered the thin one with shaggy black hair.

 “You shouldn’t be so scared of your mom, Ryan,” chuckled the third man in a fishing chair. He had short hair, but with just a white undershirt, his tattoos that resemble an acid trip were on display.

 “Damn that shit smells good,” sniffed Billy, the larger one.

 “Shouldn’t you of waited until AFTER we lit up?” asked Ryan as he plopped down on his futon bed.

 “Don’t matter. Your mom ain’t gonna wake up by the smell of weed,” Mark remarked.

 “It smells good,” repeated Billy as he sat down on the green bean bag chair. “So, why ain’t we outside like we normally do?”

 “Great grammar, there William Shakespeare,” grinned Ryan. The irony was lost on the large man as he tilted his head.

 Mark replied, “It’s hot as all hell. Least in here we won’t die from heat stroke,”

 So the three sat in silence for the following few moments. Ryan laid on his futon, silently texting; Billy watched the ceiling fan slowly turn and Mark was plucking the seeds out of the green hemp.

 The light, subtle sound of a click rose in the room and the paper became lit. Billy and Ryan leaned inward as Mark took the first hit off the fresh joint. After his second puff he passed it to Ryan who inhaled quickly and his posture loosen to a more relaxed state. Billy’s fingers drum on his boots as he waited for his turn. He inhaled the exhaled smoke with anticipation.  Mark leaned back with sadness written on his face.

 Ryan took a puff and then passed it to Billy as he looked at Mark, “You okay, bro?”

 “Not really. I miss Ashley,”

 “God not this again,” groaned Ryan. “For the last time she’ll be back by Monday. She’s only in St. Augustine,” Ryan then looked at Billy, who took well passed two hits, “Dude, don’t be like my sister. Pass it,”

 Billy growled and passed it to Mark. Billy leaned back, “Wasn’t St. Augustine like a dude’s nephew?”

 Ryan just blinked, “You couldn’t say a more generic term?”

 “No, like an important dude’s nephew… Like, uh… the guy who’s on the salads,”

 Mark laughed, with smoke escaping his mouth as he passed it to Ryan, “How would you know anything about salads, Billy? All I ever see you eat is chips and wings,”

 “Not true. I get pancakes at IHOP,”

 Ryan gagged on the smoke and coughed up the smoke, “Yeah and you fucking stink up the entire house. It’s like a gas chamber,”

 “No pun intended,” laughed Billy.

 “Damn Billy, is nothing sacred? My grandfather was Jewish,” snapped Mark.

 “Really?” asked Ryan, surprised.

 Ryan shrugged, “Or was a Nazi. Something about Germany,”

 Ryan passed the joint to Mark, ignoring Billy as the large man was looking at the ceiling fan. “Who would win, Superman or Batman?”

 “I think we had this discussion before,” Ryan thought out loud. “But there were more of us…”

 “Yeah, Ashley said something smart too,” said Mark, pouting. He lifted his lighter and lit the joint. Billy went to reach for it but Mark simply replied with a flick of the lighter to ward off Billy’s big hand. “I think Batman wins simply by saying he has that green stuff. Like with Billy and fire,”

 “Fire sucks,” muttered Billy.

 Ryan took the joint and inhaled. “Then we need a new subject. How about—“

 “—What superpower would you have?” interrupted Billy. A second later, before either of his friends could react, “And who would your super villain be?”

 Both his friends blinked and looked at each other. “Putting that way makes it hard,” Ryan admitted. “Who would be my rival?”

 Mark sat back, and Ryan leaned back. Billy took a long lighter and lit the joint again and continued puffing.

 “I’d take the Flash speed with that one bald dude as a villain. You know, the fat guy. That way I can out run him,” shrugged Ryan. “I’m already fast. And I can outrun Billy. So I’m already there,”

 “Someone should write a comic book about us. Or some kind of cool web series that you can exclusively read on certain sites,” grinned Mark. “I’d be like Wolverine with the claws and old age,”

 Billy shook his hands, “Ow! Those claw things would hurt like a motherfucker,”

 “Yeah, that would hurt,” nodded Mark. “I don’t know a villain I’d fuck with though. I’ll have Ashley as my sidekick!”

 “Of course you would,” Ryan rolled his eyes.

 The joint slowly became a roach as the minutes passed. The air was thick with the calming scent of weed and the sweet scent of vanilla. Billy watched the ceiling fan through red eyes, “When did you get a ceiling fan, Ryan?”

 “What are you talking about, fat boy? I always had a ceiling fan,” Ryan found himself looking up at it. “I don’t remember turning it on. Did you turn it on?”

 “I shut the door,” Billy explained, “Did you turn it on, Mark?”

 “I don’t remember sexually arousing anyone,”

 “No…” Billy trailed off with his hand pointing up.

 “Dudes, we need to get to IHOP,” Mark rubbed his stomach.

 “Why?” Ryan asked with his eyebrow raised.

 “Because I’m hungry and it’s the only thing open. Besides the 7-K,”

 “7-K? You mean the Circle 11,” Billy laughed.

 “I am getting pretty hungry,” Ryan agreed.

 “Pancakes dose sound good,” Mark licked his lips.

 “I’m so hungry I can eat the Hop,” Billy grinned.

 His two friends met his sarcasm with confusion. The three slowly got up, the roach seemingly has vanished. Billy reached for the doorknob but couldn’t open the door. It was still locked. Billy’s eyes widen and looked back, frightened. Ryan leaned in and unlocked it and Billy opened it with a smile.

 “Told you I had mental powers,”

 Ryan went to say something but Mark placed his hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

 “Let’s just get some food. You can’t argue with an idiot on an empty stomach.”