He shrugged, tendrils of smoke creeping from the corners of his mouth.

"I guess." As he spoke, a huge plume of smoke leapt from his lips, filling the room with a sweet smell.

"Lemme get a hit of that," I gestured towards the glass pipe. He handed it to me, and I quickly lost interest in finding the right pair of pants.

"You like this?" I asked him, nodding towards the stereo speakers. Jungle beats were pounding from them.

"Nah. Chris made it for me." I returned the colorful bowl to him. My hands, now empty, began to flow in sync with the music. Soon they were dancing in circles around me as my feet led the way. I watched myself in the mirror, satisfied with my body's response to the music.

Damien watched approvingly, moving his head in response. "You gonna go to Burst tonight?"

"I'm waiting for Chris. He's supposed to spin later, but if he doesn't call me, I think I might just chill on the corner over by Nick's."

"Well, I'm gonna go pick up a 40 and head down to the park up on 218th in a little bit if you want to com

Chris and I hung up. I picked a brightly striped shirt off of the heap of clothes on the side of my room and flung it over my sticky shoulders. I pounded down the stairs, ran into the bathroom, and squirted a gob of gel into my hair. Blond spikes poked up in all directions. Perfect. I grabbed my wallet off of the television in the living room and sauntered into the kitchen while tucking it slyly into my back pocket.

"Yeah. But they didn't do nothing. They just, like, told me not to sell anymore bags. And I was already done anyway."

I looked at Chris and uttered, "Whoa."

The screens in front caught my eye once again. An elliptical mix of disturbing images that included sex, cartoons, and computer-generated graphics dashed by. Pictures would quickly flash on the screens in rhythmic coordination with the booming bass.

"What's up. You get the *censored*?"

Some common words found in the essay are:
Yeah Wanna, Whatever We're, Whenever Hmm, Alright Chris, Yo Damian, Yeah Yeah, Nah Chris, Nah I'm, Chris What's, Chris Looking, dance floor, main dance floor, main dance, raised pipe, chris what's, downstairs chris, screens front, chris' house, plume smoke, i'm gonna, twenty dollars,
Approximate Word count = 1798
Approximate Pages = 7 (250 words per page double spaced)