It’s almost here! Book 2, STONERS VS. MOANERS! Isn’t the front cover fuuuuuuun? Hopefully it hints at all the danger inside.
And here’s a different excerpt than the one tucked in the back of VEGAN TEENAGE ZOMBIE HUNTRESS, to whet your appetite a little more:
Mike hands me a brownie, and I bite into it. It’s really soft, and chocolatey, and so good I can feel my eyes rolling back in my head. As soon as I’m done, I steal another one out of the bag and eat it really fast.
“Whoa,” Mike says. “Easy on the mari-num-nums. Too much can make you freak out. You metabolize pot differently when you eat it.”
“Whatever, nerd. I’m not worried about it.”
“I’m really not worried. Just to prove you wrong, I’m gonna have another.” I grab an extra one and shove it whole in my mouth, and Mike shakes his head.
“Bloe, you’re gonna get really, really fucked up when this shit kicks in, even though it kicks in slow. It could be half an hour from now, or even an hour. But you will be fucked up.”
“Why’d you bring so many if you didn’t want me to eat them?”
“Because you can’t just bake two, dipshit.”
Mike shakes his head at me. “Just concentrate on relaxing. If you start having a freakout, well…I’m gonna have to keep your folks from seeing you until you calm down. Might have to slap you out of it.”
“Sounds great,” I say, sarcasm oozing from my voice. “Please slap me.”
Mike shoves me, then grabs the TV remote and flips on a horror movie channel and we both settle in against the couch.
A girl on the screen is running from zombies in slow motion to heavy metal. She’s wearing a tight white tank top, and blood’s spattered across her boobs, and they’re bouncing up and down as she runs. She’s totally hot, hotter than any girl who’s ever looked at me, and I feel a little guilty, because girls are always the victims in horror movies, always tripping and falling all over themselves like they’re helpless, and always forced to wear sexy clothes for the camera, as if those are the only clothes they have. Oh, there we go, the girl is tripping and falling. Oh no. The zombies land on her, she’s totally mobbed and she’s basically shit out of luck. She’s getting eaten. The camera zooms in close on the zombies’ mouths. Oh my God. My heart is starting to race. The zombies are stressing me out. I grab the remote from Mike and switch the channel.
“What the hell?” he says. “Come on.”
“I can’t do this, not tonight.”
He looks at me, suspicious, studying my face. “Dude, are you wigging out already? It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes. There’s no way.”
“No, I’m not,” I lie. “I just want something more, you know, light-hearted.”
“Light-hearted? All right pussy, how about some cartoons and shit? Real fun when you’re stoned.”
“Nah, I’m sick of cartoons. It’s all we ever watch with Ruby around.” I start flicking through the channels, feeling incredibly restless. I feel like I’ve seen all of this before. Endless re-runs, fake beautiful people going through the same motions again and again. It’s all a pack of lies.
I flick off the TV, and hide my hands under my legs because they’re starting to shake. My chest feels tight, like a gorilla’s sitting on top of me. I force myself to breathe. I need to relax. Why won’t this goddamned pot kick in and make me feel good?
“Let’s just play some music.” I hope that Mike can’t hear the edge in my voice. The edge of something really bad.
“You got it,” he says, and beams music from his iPod to the wireless speakers I set up in the basement. Soon, the trip-enhancing tunes of Pink Floyd will caress my eardrums. Maybe it will calm me down, and I can just enjoy being high. Pot makes music so much richer, like touching velvet with your mind. I take a deep breath, letting the sound wash over me, hoping to let go of the stress and panic and bullshit-anxiety that’s ratcheting up inside me.
I look over at Mike; his eyes are halfway closed, and he sinks farther down in his seat, like he’s melting.
“Mmmm…so…relaxed,” Mike says. “This is some good shit. Need to…bake…more often.”
I nod, jealous because I don’t feel the same way. Instead, I feel even weirder than before, wired and agitated and just sick. My stomach is clenching, and jitters course through my veins like tiny, twitchy jackrabbits running away from a big, bad wolf.
“You alright?” Mike asks, half-asleep.
“Oh, yeah. Just awesome,” I lie. I don’t want him to know that he was right, that I definitely ate too much pot and I’m already this close to a freak-out. An epic, screaming freak-out.
—Excerpted from STONERS VS. MOANERS, copyright © by 2016 G.G. Silverman. All rights reserved.
I might post yet another excerpt very soon, and the paperback should be out in a month or so. Want to know when this bad boy comes out? Follow me on social media (see links above) or get on my mailing list. Hang tight, my friends! Mwah!