dead drop

When we were about eleven or twelve years old, there was this church youth event at St. Mark's Episcopal church. Those church youth events always seemed a bit creepy to me, and seemed to have more than their share of odd individuals. But there were often a few attractive girls which added to their appeal. More so than the Christian Love and Fellowship. For some reason, Brent and I told this one kid that my name was Carlos. I don't know why, but it seemed funny, probably because my name is not Carlos. But that doesn't have anything to do with this story.
There were periods of downtime when no prayers or hymn singing or christian themed skits were occurring, and Brent and I would often talk about miscellaneous crap to pass the time. He told me about how he would buy pot. I was pretty impressed that he was buying pot at our age. I had never bought or even smoked pot at that age.
There was a certain trash can near his house that he would go to and tape an envelope with money in it to the bottom of the lid. The next day, he would come back and find his pot taped to the bottom of the lid in place of the money.
Years later we were talking about those christian youth events at the church, and I reminded him about how he told me about buying pot. He had no memory of telling me that story, and he hadn't smoked or bought pot at that age either. He also insisted that I must be misremembering because not only had he never bought pot at that age, but he also wasn't smart enough to come up with a clever story like that.
I don't know, maybe he'd seen it in a movie or something. Or maybe I did.