"His name is Gamzee Makara. He is 23 years old and living in a run down apartment building in inner city Seattle. He works as a piercer in that shitty tattoo parlor across the street. You could say he has a bit of a problem, but he's my best friend…"

"Mid afternoon on a summer day and he's already blazed out of his mind," Karkat mumbled as he opened the door to Gamzee's marijuana smoke filled apartment. His unkempt head was bent back over the couch; a blunt pinned between his fingers. He looked up with a grin on his face, "Oh hey, motherfucker," he paused to take another long hit. "How's you?" he says, his voice strained by the need to keep the toxins in his lungs.

"I'm just fucking fantastic now that I've walked into your hellhole of an apartment." The smaller twenty year old rolled his eyes and plopped down onto the couch next to his lanky friend. Next thing he knows, Gamzee and his stupid high clown face is staring at him. The face smirks, "At least it ain't no opium den, my brother." Ever since Gamzee had gotten into his juggalo cult or whatever it is, Karkat's been the only one to keep him line. Karkat's always been the one to keep him in line. Gamzee took another long drag from the rolled marijuana and offered it to Karkat. In return, Karkat smacked it out of his hand.

"Don't offer me that bullshit!"

"Whoa man, jus' offering you to chill the fuck out a bit." Along with the juggalo thing, Karkat has to monitor the amount and what kind of drugs Gamzee tries. He's been high on almost everything you can think of. Acid, Ecstasy, Cocaine, he's even done a few milligrams of heroin. You name it, he's probably done it. One of the most intense experiences for Karkat was the one Acid Trip considering he just couldn't get Gamzee to calm down until he passed out. As far as Karkat knows, Gamzee has never managed to get addicted to anything, and that was a motherfucking miracle.

And so the faithful best friend glanced over at the skinny stoner-juggalo next to him. The idle look on his face was terrifying. One day, all of this was going to catch up to him and that day was something Karkat absolutely dreaded. He sighed and changed his position on the couch so his hands were between his knees. The tang of Mary Jane in the air was so strong that he could scarcely breathe. "Gamzee, man, can we at least open a window or something?" he coughed. When he finally realized he was being talked to, Gamzee stopped playing with his so called "snakebite" piercings on either side of his mouth and turned his head to a very pissed off Karkat.

"God dammit, Gamzee! I can't even have a coherent conversation with you anymore! You're always either stoned off your ass or out co-!" A long bony finger stopped him mid-sentence, "Bro, you've really got to loosen up. You're too motherfuckin' worked up all the time. Just chill." Gamzee's toothy grin managed to make Karkat even angrier on the inside, but calmed him on the outside.

One of the many reasons these two polar opposites were the best of friends since the 7th grade was because the both have this ability to calm the other down or cheer the other up. It was a quality in them both that each of them needed someone to have. Karkat leaned back on the tattered sofa and sighed grumpily. Gamzee chuckled and stood up, "Don't deny it, 'cause y'know it's true!" he said while stretching his long body. Karkat sat silent and turned on the TV to some show on the History Channel about the Industrial Revolution. Meanwhile, abiding to his friend's earlier request, Gamzee opened a window and sat down on the windowsill. Karkat remained quiet until most of the fumes had filed out the window and away from his nose, "Why don't you ever fucking clean this shithole, Gamzee?" Leaning on the windowsill, Gamzee stood still with his arms crossed. He played quietly with the snakebites again. That was a habit he'd picked up after that damned Acid Trip. He says when he does that it "keeps him glued to reality" which could have some philosophical meaning if it wasn't coming from Gamzee.

"Gamzee! Clean your damn apartment for God's sake!"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sure, motherfucker," Gamzee said incoherently and with a soft laugh as he jolted out of his trance as though he'd just woken up from a nap. He dragged himself over to the coffee table and gathered the collection of bongs, pipes and other various paraphernalia all in his arms. He then walked over to the hall closet and shoved it all in. Karkat took the liberty of placing the bridge of his nose between his fingers and mumbling to himself about how stupid Gamzee really is. Of course, something fell and shattered when the door was shut, but neither of them said or did anything about it.

Suddenly, Gamzee disappeared into his bedroom as if he had just remembered something too important to pass up. Karkat leaned over to get a better look, but could only catch a glimpse of his friends hunched over back. Eventually, Gamzee came rushing out looking a little frantic. Gamzee never looked frantic, especially when high. "Oh my God, man. I don't know if I'm going to have enough money this week," he said in a panicked tone, "Holy shit, this ain't fucking good, brother." Karkat sighed and just decided to go with it, it's not like weed was a big deal or anything so what did it matter?

"Doesn't your job shoving dirty needles through people's faces pay pretty well?"

"Yeah, but I don't get paid until the end of next week!" In all the years the two had known each other, Karkat had never seen Gamzee get this frantic about anything. Karkat stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to Gamzee; placing an arm on his shoulder, "Dude, really. You need to calm down. It's just weed. You can get some next week," he said in a calming tone. Gamzee's eyes mellowed out in some sort of odd realization, but the panic was still set behind them. He nodded quickly and in an act of pure desperation; picked up the half smoked joint on the carpeted floor and lit up.

Karkat shook his head, "God, you're treating something as simple as a bag of weed like it's crack or something." Gamzee's lips twitched into the small, sad-looking smile. "I'm not that crazy, man," he exhaled the smoke, "I'm crazy, but not that crazy," he laughed. Even Karkat managed to let a small laugh out of his tight sealed lips before waving to his old friend and leaving the dirty apartment. With that small, eerie smile still pasted to his face, Gamzee took a hit and nodded his head to the tune of a commercial on the TV. He dragged himself over to the sofa and sat down, stretched his long arms along the length of it, tilted his head back and let the smoke pour out of his mouth like poison.