This isn't funny

I received a call today from the twins’ teacher, Mrs. Clayton. I’m not sure what to think - she sounded very grim, and only said that she thought a meeting was in order. I asked if it was anything urgent, and she was never very direct answering the question. I’d be worried enough, if it wasn’t for what I found this afternoon.

Now, I’m in a state of panic. I was cleaning out the drawers of the desk in the rec room, and found a little bag filled with curled green leaves. I’m not familiar with drugs, but I think it may be marijuana. If it’s not I owe that high-schooler a knife between the ribs.

How would they have gotten their hands on something like that?

Wait. What? I didn’t buy that. I didn’t type that. I’m not a violent person. Not what I just typed, the thing above it. I’m being hacked again, that’s the only explanation. If someone else can see this, stop what you’re doing. It isn’t funny.

Why would you think I’m trying to be funny?

Then what are you trying to do? I’m going to call someone. A tech support company, or I’ll get a new computer.

You’re so cute. You think that’ll change anything.

I’m not dealing with this right now. I’m stressed enough. That isn’t me, I know that, and I refuse to be toyed with like this.

If you’re stressed, maybe you need a cigarette. Or something a bit heavier. It’s helped before. You can thank me later.

I DON’T SMOKE.

What’re you doing right now?

I need to go lie down. And flush these down the toilet. Where do I keep getting them? I know I’m not buying them. I can’t be.