Not an Addict
folder
G through L › Jay and Silent Bob / Clerks
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
910
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › Jay and Silent Bob / Clerks
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
6
Views:
910
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is fiction, I do not own Jay and Silent Bob/Clerks. I make no money from this writing.
Chapter 3
Crumpled papers and numerous cigarette butts littered the small apartment. The battered coloured television was blaring, Homer’s yellow cartoon hands wrapped firmly around Bart’s neck. Bob sat in front of it, laughing, a bowl of popcorn on his lap and a cigarette burning in a nearby ashtray. Next to him, Jay was passed out. His mouth was hanging open and an unflattering amount of drool dampened the sofa’s fabric. Jay’s arm hung down, almost touching the floor and only inches away from Bob’s unopened beer.
“Fight and kill and fight and fight and kill. Fight, fight, fight, kill, kill, kill. The Itchy and Scratchy Show,” the music was loud and Jay snorted in his sleep.
Bob turned down the volume, opening the can of beer while setting down the remote and dropping kernels all over the floor. When he settled back, he accidentally leaned on Jay’s other arm.
“Watch it!” Jay sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What the fuck are we watching?”
Bob cocked his head waiting for Jay to wake up enough to process the images on the screen. Jay, however, had lost interest in television and was searching his pockets for a joint. Bob watched with silent disapproval.
“What?” Jay lit the one that he had discovered between the seat cushions. “This?” He held up the hand holding the illegal substance.
Bob nodded. The disapproval still clearly written across his broad features. Jay only looked disgusted.
“You do it too so don’t act all fucking high and mighty and shit.”
Bob shrugged. He could have argued, saying that he didn’t feel the need to get high the moment that he woke up. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the subject drop. Reaching for the remote, he pushed the ashtray closer to the middle of the table. The volume went up three notches on the television and the chance for any conversation was lost.
“Fight and kill and fight and fight and kill. Fight, fight, fight, kill, kill, kill. The Itchy and Scratchy Show,” the music was loud and Jay snorted in his sleep.
Bob turned down the volume, opening the can of beer while setting down the remote and dropping kernels all over the floor. When he settled back, he accidentally leaned on Jay’s other arm.
“Watch it!” Jay sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “What the fuck are we watching?”
Bob cocked his head waiting for Jay to wake up enough to process the images on the screen. Jay, however, had lost interest in television and was searching his pockets for a joint. Bob watched with silent disapproval.
“What?” Jay lit the one that he had discovered between the seat cushions. “This?” He held up the hand holding the illegal substance.
Bob nodded. The disapproval still clearly written across his broad features. Jay only looked disgusted.
“You do it too so don’t act all fucking high and mighty and shit.”
Bob shrugged. He could have argued, saying that he didn’t feel the need to get high the moment that he woke up. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the subject drop. Reaching for the remote, he pushed the ashtray closer to the middle of the table. The volume went up three notches on the television and the chance for any conversation was lost.