One night as my host bro and I passed the newcomers off on my other host bro, who was from PA(springfield was a huge program, there were kids from ever'where), we went to get away...we went into my brothers' bedroom, my real brother, not a cult brother, my real blood brother. He was 3 years younger than me but still had a real nice record collection under his stereo. My host bro sat on the opposite wall from me as we listened to one Neil Young record and then a Pink Floyd or Grateful Dead record and we began to talk. I don't remember who crossed the line first, but suddenly we were talkin' about "druggie" stashes and how we were still in love with our "druggie" girlfriends. Neither acknowledged the others' transgressions but speakin' for myself I took much comfort in my host-bros words. It was a test to make sure it was what we thought it was. We were both full of shit, as they say, and now we both knew it!
After a few minutes of talkin' about all kinds o' things that we shouldn't have been talkin' about ever't'in got too intense, I mean I became paranoid and nervous...we dropped the conversation, sorta just acted like it hadn't even happened and went back to just goin' along with things for a while, for another week or so anyway...