Jack StieoSon. That hanger on little twerp. He acts all palsy but don't turn your back too long or some of your stash might vanish. He is likely to get your girl friend's cell number and call her up romantically as soon as he over hears about a fight. A pencil thin little prick. But he keeps knocking and knocking. He stops, probably makes his rounds knocking at other doors then returns to yours. You finally open the door. He has a big bag of White Widow kind bud on him. Looks like a half pound. He says he stole it from his uncle's grow room. You don't mind hanging out with him so much tonight. You and he smoke tons of that super powerful weed. you even write a song together. you on guitar and him on bongo's and high pitched vocals. The good times last until his uncle catches up with him and recovers what has not been smoked yet.