Too Much

Oo! My bonged-over head.

I've just smoked pot, pretty much, all weekend. Wooo! The plant is nearly all gone, I gave myself that leeway. Soon, gone forever… everish.

The light fades.

Big smile.

I sit outside on my back veranda over looking my rear garden and just keep rolling those joints. Magic fingers. Sitting at the wrought iron table sitting on the wicker chairs.

The smoke floats over the side fence and I often wonder what they think.

Even when I think I will wait a considerable time before I roll another joint, I’ll be back out there rolling some more.

I have the mull box on my knees, with the mulli in the mull bowl on the wrought iron table.

I can look at the time for one joint and then, because my head is so thick, I can forget all about the time I smoked it.

I pre-cut the roaches, I cut up a whole lot at once, so I am ready.

Then, when I have kicked back and am puffing through the next joint, I remember that I took the time I smoked the previous joint and when I look at my watch, so often it has only been 30 minutes, 20 minutes, 10 minutes on occasions.

“Ha ha, what am I like,” I say.

“You are a head,” says Matt.

Then I repeat the process over and over and over again, until Matt. Is looking cross-eyed at me.

“It’s too much,” Matt slurs.

“I don’t make you smoke.”

“I know,” says Matt.

“You never say no.”

“You never stop smoking,” says Matt.

Shrug. What do I care? I like being stoned so fuck it, so what if I am a pig with it. It just makes me even nicer.

Smoke pot kids, it is the best thing you can do.

“You should just grow a funnel in the top of your head.”

“You are very funny.”

“It would be easier.”

“Very funny.”

“In fact, in evolutionary terms, give it a thousand years and your descendants will probably come with funnels,” says Matt. “A big cartilage funnel out the tops of their heads.”

“My descendants?” I say. “In a thousand years?”

“Yeah, it’s how they’ll develop.”

“Do you think I am going to have kids?”

“Oh, yes, well…”

“Do you want to have kids?”

“Ha ha ha.”

“Apparently, they can mix our sperm now and we can both father one kid.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I read that somewhere. It was developed just for gay guys.”

“It was developed just for gay guys.”

“Yeah, a little me and you.”

“A little me and you?”

“Yeah, could you imagine what he’d be like?’

“Imagine.”