If You Feel Lucky

The alley was long and dark, cobblestones covered the ground, there was a light at the far end that burnt with a yellow hue.

A man walked in from the dark end, wearing a knee length jacket and Cuban Heel boots.

A young, athletic man stood under the yellow light at the far end of the alley. He wore jeans and a singlet. His arms bulged with muscles on either side of his well developed chest. His guy crew of four sat around him on empty four gallon drums.

The Cuban Heels clip clopped on the grey cobblestones, which looked like steel grey corn on the cob laid out flat under his feet.

The young athletic man smoked a cigarette, the smoke from which clouded up into the yellow light, like mist on a cold night.

Cuban Heels walked straight up to the young man under the yellow light, as he approached, the young man flicked his cigarette at Cuban Heel's feet. Cuban Heels looked down at the burning red ember at his feet. He looked up at the young man under the yellow light.

"You feel lucky, pal?" said Cuban Heels.

"Lucky enough," said the athletic young man.

"You feel lucky enough to get to me, before I get to you?"

“Lucky enough, sure.”

"Protect your manliness, as you know I'm coming for that first."

“Come for it. Give it your best shot.”

"Suck my cock!" said Cuban Heels.

"Nah, you got it all wrong, mate. It's you who'll be sucking my cock," said the athletic young man.

"So, you are feeling lucky."

Cuban Heels stepped forward and grabbed the young man by the face. The young man didn't try to pull away, he stood firmly defiant, chin out, still.

They gazed at each other, defiantly.

Cuban Heels slipped his hand around the back of the young man's neck. He pushed the young man downwards onto his knees. The young man didn't resist.

The athletic young man’s crew got to their feet, but the athletic young man held up his hand telling them to hold back.

“How lucky do you feel now?” said Cuban Heels.

“Still lucky…” murmured the athletic young man.

Cuban heels rubbed the athletic young man’s face up and down his crotch.

The athletic young man’s crew got obviously twitchy, but they didn’t act.

“How lucky…” Cuban Heels rubbed the athletic young man’s face up against the front of his jeans again. “Do… you… feel?”

“Take it out, and I will bite the fucking thing off,” said the athletic young man.

Cuban Heels tossed the athletic young man down onto the cobble stones, where he landed on his arse. “You’ve got some hutzpah, you know, kid,” said Cuban Heels. He held out his hand to help the athletic young man up, which the athletic young man took. Cuban Heels wrenched the athletic young man to his feet with a jerk of his arm. Suddenly they were face to face eyeballing each other. “I like that in a man,” said Cuban Heels.

They eyeballed each other for several, long minutes. Then they both spat past the other onto the ground.

The athletic young man’s crew whooped and clapped loudly.

“You’ve got a strange way of greeting people,” said the athletic Young man..

“What’s your name?” asked Cuban Heels.

“Felix,” said the athletic young man. “What’s yours?”

“Jose,” said Cuban Heels. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Nothing,” said Felix.

“What if I make you?” said Jose.

Felix’s crew of athletic young men, now sitting back down on the drums, began to sit up and pay attention, all four of them. Ready for anything?

Felix held up his arm, and pushed out his chest, and moaned. “This is a strange way to say hello.”

Two of Felix’s crew had slipped their hands on to the handles of their guns in their jean’s waistbands.

Jose took Felix in his arms and whispered in his ear. “I’m going to do you well. If your boys weren’t here, I’d have you bent over one of those drums by now.”

“Oh yeah, man, but my guys are here,” said Felix.

“You’d take it like a girl?” said Jose.

“For as long as it takes my guys to blow your brains out,” said Felix. 

“Get rid of your boys and I will do you up against the wall right now,” said Jose. “With my bare hands.”

Felix turned to his crew. “Ha ha, you’d like that, hey.” His boys mummed in agreement. "With his bare hands."

“I’m telling you…” said Jose. He spun Felix around. Felix resisted. Jose pushed him face first up against the alley wall. “Get rid of your boys and we’ll find out who is the man here.”

“Fuck you.” said Felix. He broke out of Jose’s grip. “Coming alone was a tactical mistake.”

“Who said I was alone?” said Jose.

“You sure look alone,” said Felix.

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Jose.

“So can lies.”

“Whatever you want to believe?”

“Whatever I want to believe?” said Felix.

“The truth will set you free,” said Jose. “And in this case may be permanently.”

“You have awfully big talk, mate,” said Felix. “For someone who is standing alone in an alley way immediately out gunned.”

“It is the only way,” said Jose. “You know that.”

“One of you, five of us, at the end of a very long alley way, into which no one could come fast enough to save you,” said Felix.

“Maybe so, but none of you would be making it out of here alive if anything happened to me.”

“That’s a big risk.”

“Nah,” said Jose. “I don’t see it as such.”

“No?”

“No, I see it as good will, going towards us working through the problems we have?”

“And what problems would they be?” asked Felix.

“You know as well as I do, what they are?”

“Why don’t you refresh my memory?”

“I thought I did, pushing you up against that wall?”

“Intimidation, isn’t reconciliation,” said Felix. “And I don’t scare easily.”

“I was just giving it to you how I have heard you like it, you know, to be friendly. Get on your good side.”

“You need to get better sources,” said Felix.

“Okay, here it is, you guys have been selling on my territory…”

“Your territory?”

“The Northside.”

“Who made you the king of the Northside?”

“Generations of family controlling the Northside, that’s what gave me claim to it.”

“So, you think,” said Felix.

“So, I know.”

“Do you?”

“Look, stick to the Southside, and all those disco queens who will buy enough of your, er, merchandise to make it worth while for you. Work it well, and you will do well.”

“What happens if I want to expand?”

“There will be trouble.”

“From who?”

“Felix, let’s not pretend any more, mate, we have been patient up until this point, but I out gun, out man, and out fire power you on every level, so, be a good lad…”

“Good lad?”

“You are seriously stretching the friendship,” said Jose. “Work the southside, you should do well with it, and you, and you posse of pretty boys here will get to keep your dicks, attached, where they should be attached, do we understand each other?”

“I’m not…”

“All I won’t to hear at this point is, I understand?”

“I don’t think you grasp…”

Jose grabbed Felix by the singlet. “Yes, or no?” Felix’s boys all got to their feet. Jose pulled Felix’s face centimetres from his face.

“Yes, yes, yes,” said Felix.

“You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

Jose let go of Felix singlet pushing him backwards and away from him. Felix stumbled but remained on his feet.

“Sensible move,” said Jose.

Blow Up Doll

Sunday Night Out

I went out dancing last night. Popped a pill and went on the hunt for some basic beats.

I found what I wanted. I grooved into the night. It's what I needed, a good, mindless dance. I popped another pill, when the end of the night seemed further away than I'd like.

The lights were good. The music just fine.

I flirted with a cute Italian boy. Nice smile, kind of wanting, he was on something, to be sure. His jaw shivered Beautiful eyes, big and brown. We danced and smiled. He was with a girlfriend. They shared each other's water.

I popped another pill, thinking about him. My eyes bled. My teeth clenched. My head floated to the roof and floated there on a wave of doof, doof, doof. Bobbing. Floating I couldn't see. My teeth ground constantly. My sense of balance faltered from this plane to the next, but in a good way, a funny way, a way that made me laugh, made me feel ten feet tall.

Faces appeared and floated away. The Italian boy asked me something, but the ringing in my ears masked his words. He smiled. I got the sense I was supposed to answer. It seemed funny. That disconnection, half floating on another plane. My eyes bulged as I tried to focus. I laughed. I was smiling. I couldn't stop smiling.

He took my hand and we were rushing through the crowed. Everything changed. His hand felt good in mine, it was all I could feel. Was I collapsing and I just didn't realise? Would there be red & blue lights? Why would he care? People swayed into view and then out. He was always just passed the next person, just out of sight, but his hand gripped mine tightly.

Dark. Cold. Crashing through doors.

Fresh. The light was suddenly florescent. There were tiles. Everyone was stopped. Milling. It was bright. Hot lights. I shielded my face. I wasn't collapsing, or falling, but my eyes had difficulty opening. Something was funny, deep inside me. I could feel myself laughing, but somewhere else.

The Italian boy said thanks, to someone. I'm not sure who. Everything rushed if I opened my eyes. Blur. My head flopped just a bit.

I was being pushed backwards. It was darker, the brightness was gone. Then it was back. There was a wall behind me.

"I’m Rocky," said the Italian guy.

Rocky was undoing his belt. The buttons on his fly popped open. I was looking down as he got his dick out, I looked away.

Suddenly it was cold.

“I’m Jackson,” I slurred.

We were standing at the urinal, except I was facing the wrong way. A guy came through the door holding his girlfriends hand

"You’re a friend of Johnny’s aren’t you, handsome man?" said Rocky.

“Johnny Jergan?”

“Yep.”

“Yep.”

The toilets were really bright, and I closed one eye. All the edges were really sharp, the grid patterns were really standing out.

“He’s a good mate.”

“Johnny is the best,” I said. I focused on Rocky’s face. His skin was kind of white and blotchy, but that could have been me. His face was shiny with sweat, his hair was kind of wet but still cool. Thick. I looked away. Two guys wearing the same clothes came through the door, they were chewing fiercely.

“You’re a good dancer,” said Rocky

“Am I,” I said. I looked back at Rocky. There was a strong stream of piss still coming out of him. I looked away. “I like to dance.”

“Yeah, me too,” said Rocky. I looked back at him, he was shaking the last of the piss off his cock. He slipped it back into his jeans and started buttoning the buttons. “It’s nice to have someone to dance with.”

“You have your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, sure, but it’s nice to have guy energy too.”

“Yeah both, we need both.” I wasn’t even sure what I was saying by this point. “It makes the world spin.”

“Ying and Yang.” Rocky stepped to the sink and rinsed his hands under the cold water.

We stood next to each other and gazed at ourselves in the mirror.

“You’re holding up better than me,” said Rocky.

“Oh rubbish, with your cheek bones.”

“Noone would ever guess we’re how many pills,” he looked at me.

“What?”

He pointed at my reflection in the mirror with his chin. “How many pills is that?”

“Ah…”

“If you can’t remember it must be time for another one.”

“Shouldn’t that be if you can’t remember… “but my jaw was quivering and I was losing the will to complete the sentence “Ah, 3, it’s 3.”

“Not bad, you look good for 3.”

“How many you?” I asked.

“I think it is 3 too, and a few lines.”

“Yeah, a couple of lines for me to.”

“As a taster for the night.”

“A starter, is what I always say,” I said. “My buddy Derek always makes me up an enormous line to start the night.

“I think we both look good,” said Rocky.

“Heaven and hell,” I said.

“What? Me and you?” said Rocky.

“No, here and there,” I said.

Rocky laughed. “We should pop another pill before we head back out.

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

We were then both in front of the mirrors with our small plastic bags in our hands trying to open the snap lock and get a pill out.

“Should I wonder about doing this, when I can’t get the bag open.”

“It just means it is more urgent than we first thought,” said Rocky. “And you need to get it into your quicker.”

We finally wrestled our pills from their small plastic bags. We put the pills in our mouths. We both motioned for a drink. Neither of us had water.

“Here, you two boys are in need?” said Magnolia the drag queen. She had just entered the toilets. She handed us her drink, which turned out to be a double whisky and coke, we both washed our pills down.

“Thanks,” I said. I coughed after the strong alcohol.

“Thanks,” said Rocky. He inhaled after the whiskey as though he was catching his breath.

We both did that that’s-too-much face post strong alcohol grimace.

“Charmed,” said Magnolia. She looked Rocky up and down. “Puts hairs on your chest.”

“You’re a life saver,” I said.

“Yeah, much obliged,” said Rocky.

“A girls got to wait for a squat potty anyway before she can get her business done,” said Magnolia. She ran her finger down my nose, I resisted pulling away after she gave us her drink so generously. “You two are adorable.”

“You are adorable too,” said Magnolia looking at Rocky. “You two together?”

“We are right now,” I said.

“Working on it,” said Rocky.

“Well, if you need someone to hold the lube, later,” said Magnolia. “I’m your girl.”

“Well keep that in mind,” said Rocky. He smiled his gorgeous smile.

Right at that moment a cubicle door opened up and two guys in leather came out, both sniffing noticeably. “That’s my opening.”

“I bet you’ve had some great openings,” I said. Meaning shows, but I immediately thought how someone could think otherwise.

“Cheeky,” said Magnolia.

Rocky laughed out loud. “You bet she’s had a few great openings,” he said. “You kill me.”

Rocky was one adorable guy.

“You ready,” he said.

“As I ever will be.”

“Let’s go.” Rocky took my hand. Three guys came in just as we were leaving, all draped over each other.

Rocky led me out of the toilets. Suddenly the world went dark. A wall of sound hit us. Lights flashed. The floor pulsed to the beat. 

Doof. Doof. Doof. Hot. Sweaty. Heat.

The crowd closed in on us. I gazed at Rocky’s wide shoulders as he led me through the people with a strong grip on my hand as though he wasn’t going to let go for any reason.

It all returned instantly. The sweating, the rushing, the dizzy, out of body, feeling. Drained of fluid. Topped up. I saw a couple of distorted faces rush at me and then rush away.

Rocky smiled sweetly back at me and the crowd parted. His girl friend was next to him with the water. They both glanced back at me. He smiled.

The lights flashed. The groove came and got me. I needed to dance. My head was spinning.

Rocky grabbed my arm before I disappeared back into the throbbing crowd. “There is an after party starting directly after this one,” he said. “You should come with us.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” I said. I wouldn’t be ready to come down any time soon, an after party sounded just like the thing. “Sounds good.”

“We’ll find you, don’t worry,” he said.

We started to dance. Rocky beat the air with his fists. I spun around in circles. Rocky’s girlfriend started to shimmy and roll her arms.

All Day On The Internet

A day off, a day to myself. The whole day stretching out in front of me.

My computer, I switch it on early. A bag of dope, Penny makes a home delivery early on her way to somewhere else. She’s a sight. She’s in a white strap chiffon dress with pink fur trim around he hem, pink bunny ears and a Fendi bag.

“Baguette,” she says when I mention it

She invests what she calls he play money in Fendi bags.

“Where are you going?” I ask her.

“Oh, where are any of us going, that is the question? says Penny.

“No, I mean now?”

“I just left a club, it was a good night.”

“So, anywhere from here to infinity?” I was just testing her.

She laughs. “As close as you can get.”

“I tell you, you always do my head in.”

“Listen to you. Now can I help you with one Jolly Rodgers, or two?”

Some times it's chicken snacks, sometimes it's party dresses, sometimes it's armadillos with no warning, or explanation, you just have to keep up.

“I’d better have two?”

“I love your decisiveness,” she says. She twitches her nose like Samantha Stevens.

I pushed her out the door as soon as I could. I find I start to lose IQ points if I talk to Penny for too long.

I made coffee, strong and black... I couldn’t be a happier boy? 

I pulled up the garden table under my veranda. It was a lovely sunny day, especially under the partial shade of the veranda and the Japanese Maple in front of the veranda. I rolled a joint really quickly and smoked it down greedily as I sipped my coffee.

I rolled a second joint.

I typed away on my laptop.

What do you think is in Luke’s pants?

Oh, I don’t know, let me take a look at him.

You need to look at him to guess what is in his pants?

Yes, of course, you don’t think I can just wing it on some vague idea of him?

Well, no, I guess not, I hadn’t thought about that way before.

Oh yes, of course, I’m going to have to have a look at him.

No problem, that is no problem. Take a look.

Otherwise, I might be in danger of making it up.

Making it up, you say?

Yes, imagining something that is there that isn’t there at all.

Well, no, we can’t have that, I suppose.

No, that wouldn’t be any good at all.

We need an honest response.

We need a true appraisal of what is in there.

Yes, we do.

Naturally.

Well, he is a B39 series 4. He’s a very nice example of that model. He should have a triple battery pack, plus the enhancement function in his pants in the hip.

Okay.

Should we take a look?

Yes. Let’s

Okay. The battery pouch just clicks off like this. There. Now you can see the optional quad battery pack, in this case, and the enhancement function.

Yes, I can see that.

He looks all complete, he should be good to go.

So, he is the companion model?

Yes, that is correct. He is programmed for conversation, emotional and practical. He is programmed for entertainment, which includes the date model and the games model.

So, just as good as heading out to a show, or playing various games at home.

“Yes, that is correct. He’s just as capable for live shows and cinema, or being at home for cards, chess, backgammon and the like.

Equally good for all those things.

Yes, he is a good allrounder.

Well, that is great.

And he is perfectly capable and able if his mistress let’s say gets drunk at lunch to drive her home.

He sounds almost perfect.

His service chip is up to date. He looks as though he has been well cared for.

That’s good to hear. Sad for him if he wasn’t.

I’m sorry, what?

It would be awful to be neglected.

Oh no, he has no programming around that. It wouldn’t matter.

It wouldn’t matter.

No. You don’t have to keep up any type of emotional crutch for him, like you would a real boyfriend/husband.

You don’t have to fake it with him?

No. No need to fake any sort of sincerity like you would for any human connection.

Oh god, that must be so freeing.

Oh yes, it is such a relief, let me assure you.

I move into the breakfast room for a little toast, with mashed banana on it halfway through the day for lunch. I made more coffee. I had to keep up my 6, or 7, cups per day. Naturally. The more coffee the better, that’s what I always say.

The sun is shining in through the window, that always helps. Life is so much nicer with the sun shining and the blue sky overhead, it just makes existence that much nice.

What can I say, let’s go for the optimum day, with the sun shine option, the blue sky option, plus the peace and serenity options all ticked. That is the day I am after, and that was the day I got.

Nobody disturbed me all day, so I must have inadvertently switched on the bliss option when I was loading my dashboard, so three cheers for that.

 

Nicely Carried Out...?

Nicely carried out.

Nicely carried out...? You really have to get up earlier than that to fool me.

Nearly all of the things you state occurs to become astonishingly correct and which makes me ponder the cause why I hadn't checked out this with you previously.

Have you even read the piece?

This particular piece truly did flip the light on for me personally so far as this topic, issue goes.

Tell me, which bit was the most convincing?

But, there is one position I am not truly as, well, comfortable with, so while I make and work to reconcile that with the true core theme of the point, allow me the observation of what all the readers need to say.

And what would that be? The bit with which you are not comfortable, and the observation of what all readers, you say?

Yes…

Need to say?

Nicely carried out, I say all of that.

I repeat, nicely carried out? ...to you too. You try to flatter me, to get an advantage and, I guess, if I was of, um, average intelligence, or more needy than I actually am, your words may have worked. But, alas for you, this is not the case, so good luck to you.

You misjudge me, I feel.

Well, allow me the observation of what all the writers need to say to you, my good man, nice try.

But, of course.

The conman, the charlatan, the thief, the rogue I’d like to say that I have had much experience with your type, but I have not.

Again, I say you misjudge me.

How did you get passed my photo scanners? I wonder? How did the robot security not kick in on you?

Perhaps you mistake me for someone else?

Does the shit that falls from your mouth even work? I have my doubts.

I am not trying to work anything, I assure you.

Even when I am calling you out to your face, you are still as slippery as ever.

I am sure you mistake me for another.

No sir, I do not. I know exactly who you are.

I would question that, indeed I would.

You have no purchase, here, to question anything.

I was merely congratulating you on your clear success.

No, sir, you were not. I know that. You know that. And yet here we are still deep in your con.

There is no con here, my good man, known, or not known…

I always knew you were a piece of work, but to have the gall to stand here and claim what you are claiming, now, even for you that is quite remarkable.

I don’t doubt that I am remarkable…

I don’t doubt that for a minute.

But I think you are being…

Good day sir.

I think you should let me defend myself from your miscon…

I said good day!

To The Guy Sitting Opposite Me On The Tram

To the guy sitting opposite me on the tram yesterday morning, thanks for the laugh so early in the morning. It does the heart good, well, it does, starting the morning that way.

The tram was busy with people, many were standing. I'd found a seat, as I usually seem to, they just kind of appear for me. Like car parks do, as my friend Mandy always says.

I first noticed him when he was standing in front of me with his back to me, his grey trousers were kind of tight and had a check to them and a thin red stripe that just seemed to float on the grey material. Was I seeing in 3D? I rubbed my eyes. He jigged his leg, which I thought was kind of unusual when someone was standing, it’s a sitting down kind of activity, generally. I know, I sometimes I jig my leg when I am sitting and it is oddly satisfying.

Then he turned around and stood next to me, you know really close, closer than I really thought he needed to so early on a, was it Monday? I hadn’t even woken up enough to know. It was early, I was like a two week old puppy, my eyes hadn’t opened yet.

All I had to do was tilt my head to the right, just slightly, and it seemed like the grey checked red striped material was right in my face. I could see his hand twitching. He had long fingers. I wondered if he had his nails done? It looked like he had his nails done. His knuckles kind of popped, you know like that dance, if he’d stretched them out they would have been grazing my forehead with each twitch and pop. 

I gazed up to see if he had headphones on? He did, of course.

A seat became available, the woman with the thick glasses and the even thicker trashy novel got off on the edge of the CBD. He sat down, on the seat opposite. He had to pull the legs of his grey checked and red striped trousers up, as they kind of caught around his knees, for his legs to stretch out a bit inside the material. His fingers continued to twitch and dance on his thighs. It was difficult looking in his direction, without my eyes just kind of following those fingers, it was hard not to look at them doing their jig. I resisted, just a little, but not really so much. I didn’t want to stare, but it was hard not to.

When some fool tried to do a U turn over the tram tracks and the tram had to slam on its brakes suddenly, his hands clenched into fists so tightly I thought the ends of his thumbs were going to shoot off into space, perhaps ricochet around the cabin like stray bullets. The thought of stray thumbs flying about over our heads made me chuckle.

I’d wait for him to look out the window, then my eyes would drop and watch those fabulous fingers. They kind of danced and jigged up and down his thighs, backwards and forwards. When he looked back in my direction, I’d divert my eyes quickly to the right and out the window on the other side of the tram. Tra la la. Then when I saw him in my peripheral vision look out the window again, my eyes would slide back to his twitching fingers. I’m pretty sure he didn’t catch me looking.

Ipsy wipsy spider’s web came to mind and those hand actions my mum used to do as she recited the words.

His fingers were like two spiders running up and down his thighs. Dancing, and twitching and fidgeting, and prancing and pirouetting and spinning there on his legs. Had he had one too many coffees? Was he waiting for his medication to kick in? The thoughts made me chuckle too.

I wondered if he knew what his hands were doing? Was he fully cognisant, or was there some kind of disconnect going on? I looked around to see if anyone else noticed the show going on right under their eyes, but no, of course not, just blank stares all around me. A sea of faces set to cadaver, for the morning journey into town.

Appendix Scar

I Started Smoking Again

I started smoking (cigarettes) again. It's a curse, one that you love and hate in equal measures.

Okay, I can see now I was a little rash about the hope to die remark if I relapsed, that I made recently. Yes, hasty. Yes, obviously. I was getting a little carried away hoping to die if I smoked again, I admit that now. Clearly, that is not something I want as a consequence, of having a fag. No siree Bob.

Not, that kind of fag. No, I mean the non insulting kind. No, it’s not a trigger, it is a cigarette.

I guess, I’ll be avoiding black cats, or popping the button on my fold up umbrella, inside the house. You know how that happens, sometimes, just mysteriously. No, I don’t know why. Clearly, it is the mechanism. Well, I’ll be vigilant about that for a while. Or walking under ladders. Not that I have ever made a habit of walking under ladders.

Is that salt? Is that the salt container? Could you pass it to me? Thaaank You.

Nothing. I did nothing. No, really nothing. You saw nothing. No.

Okay, okay, I threw some of the salt over my left shoulder. Are you happy.

Do, I think it works? No, I am just in the habit of useless actions, what do you think?

Graffiti Wall

 

Whizz Goes The Alphabet

Long Weekend

I smoked pot all long, lazy weekend, lying on the couch for days, up the country at Mark & Luke's. All Day, like a jelly having been removed from its mould... wobble, wobble.

What else does one do on the Queen's birthday? I ask you? 

I was lying on the couch on my back with my legs over the arm of the couch with my head on Mat’s knee, as he was looking at his iPad, stoned off my face yet again, when Mark suggested that he and Luke might want some time to themselves.

“Oh? Okay then. Sure.”

We left not long after, late afternoon. 

I think Mark found me too lazy (ha ha) and too stoned to cope with. (pot calling the kettle, but it is their house, of course) 

I even bought all the pot for the weekend and the cigarettes with which to roll my joints and still they weren’t happy. The deal was that Mark would give me half the money. So, right at the end, feeling a little bad about it all, I said, 

“You don’t have to give me any money, but give me what’s left of my half.”

Mark wanted to keep it all for himself. He turned into the middle child and snatched the dope bag away from me, when I pulled out a too bigger bud to take, he snatched the dope out of my hand.

“Seriously?”

Mark can be like that, so no surprise. He is, literally, the middle child in his family, after all.

Mat looked at me with his cheeky face, as I slipped the car into reverse and looked over my left shoulder in readiness to reverse.

“I think we got kicked out, darling.” Devilish grin.

"We got kicked out, honey." I couldn't help but smile. I kissed Mat. Team Us! We didn't care, what the hell! It was probably true, after all. Just far too relaxed.

Ex-boyfriends, there is no counting on them. Ha ha.

Giving it some thought later, they’d probably organised for some ‘trade’ to come over, some country guy with floppy hair and a big dick. Some 20 year old farm boy named Lachlan who gives it and takes at the same time. Oh yeah, there is something in that alright. I get it. As his jocks come down and his semi bounces into view. 

"I've never done this before," he says. That’s moments before he shoves himself up Luke's arse and starts riding Luke. And Luke wails out for more being the total bottom that he is. And the farm boy works his thick thighs faster. Then the farm boy gets speared in his own arse by Mark, letting out a huge yelp as he’s never quite been pinned like that before. Yeah, I get it.

It's still rude, guests are guests. A 'better' offer doesn't quite cut it. But, yeah, I understand, ex-boyfrends are what they are. Would I do that to them? No, quite frankly, I wouldn't. But, whatever, who cares.

And all of that dissolves into the back ground as Mat and I giggles all the way about being kicked out. I role joints when we get home, wishing Mat enjoyed pot way more than he does.

I Headed To The Country

I headed to the country, Friday morning. It was my long weekend. Marty and Leah were expecting me. 

Monty came with me, of course, he was in the car before I was. He has a 6th sense about any car journeys that may be in the offering. He sat on the passenger seat looking out the window panting for the whole trip.

I picked up bakery on the way, you know, as you do. Fresh crusty bread and fruity fruit buns. Up the country with the universes fresh air what more could you want, I ask you? Fresh bread, perhaps some salami I had bought last night, and good coffee. Leah was a coffee snob so that was sorted.  And Marty churned his own butter.

It is just nice to get out of the city and its closed in feel, out to the wide open spaces. The blue overhead for as far as the eye could see, the green stretching out to the horizon, and everything in between. The free flowing space, the expanse above us all, beautiful and complete, without being compromised by property developers selfishness.

The fresh air, you can taste on your tongue, that you can feel on your skin, that feels fresh and clean all around you, the perfume of the earth and the trees. And the depth of being you lose in the city.

I love the crunch of stones under my tyres on Marty and Leah’s long driveway.

Marty and Leah came out and met me on the drive.

“Welcome,” said Marty.

“Welcome, welcome,” said Leah.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hello Monty,” said Marty

“Come inside, warm yourself by the fire,” said Leah. “I have made soup for lunch.”

“I have bought crusty bread,” I said.

“Oh, lovely, we’ll get that buttered up in no time,” said Leah.

“Come on Monty, we have a spot by the stove just for you,” said Leah.

Monty hopped out of the car and walked inside like he owned the place.

“Let me take your jacket,” said Leah.

“Can I get you some wine?” asked Marty.

“Can I butter the bread?” I asked.

“I’ll get you a knife and chopping board, and then we should all be ready,” said Leah. “Sit up, and you can cut the bread at the table.”

“I’ll get some glasses,” said Marty

“I’ll get the soup,” said Leah. “Sit up, sit up. We should have a place for you at the table, Monty.” Monty grinned his big grin then sat at my feet under the table.

Marty poured the wine. Leah ladled the soup into the bowls. I cut the bread into thick slices and then slathered each one with butter.

We all sat at the table, we lifted our wine glasses and chinked them in the middle of the table.

“To good friends,” said Marty.

“To a lovely lunch,” I said.

“To peace on earth,” said Leah.

“You don’t really think there is ever going to be peace on earth, do you Lee?” Marty asked.

“Oh Marty, of course I do.”

“You have to be careful of this one, Julian, she can lie with a straight face.”

“Anyone who makes soup this good can lie all they like.”

“Oh, smooth,” said Marty. “You have to be careful of this one, Lee, he will say anything to get into the good graces.”

“Have you ever met a bad Grace?” ask Leah.

“I have,” I offered. “Grace Tubbs..." 

“We went to school with her,” Marty butted in.

“She poisoned her mother and was taken away,” I said.

“Oh, poor Grace Tubbs,” said Leah.

“Except the truth was far more prosaic,” said Marty.

“Her mother died of an overdose,” I said.

“And Grace Tubbs was taken into care.”

“Poor Grace Tubbs,” said Leah. “No father?”

“Her father was a drunk,” said Marty.

“He ran down poor Mrs Beasley in the street,” I said.

“And was sent to jail,” said Marty. “For drink driving.”

“And Mrs Beasley?” asked Leah.

“Dead,” said Marty and I in unison.

“Oh, dear god, now that I am totally distraught,” said Leah. “I better have some of that bread and butter.”

“Elspeth Beasley was in our class,” I offered.

“Oh, poor Elspeth, left without a mother,” said Leah.

“Veered right off the tracks…”

“Drugs… 

“The entire footy team in a motel in Drouin.”

“Allegedly?”

“Allegedly.”

“And then dropped out of school to have twins…”

“From the encounter in the motel room?” asked Leah.

“Allegedly,” Marty and I said in unison.

“Dear God, poor Elspeth,” said Leah.

“She won 5 million in TattsLotto a year, or so, later,” said Marty.

“Then doubled it investing in property,” I said.

“Allegedly,” both Marty and I said in unison.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” said Leah.

“Oh laugh,” said Marty.

“One of the twins is Jacki Jospeh.”

“The pop star?” asked Leah.

“The very one,” said Marty.

“That’s what she used the lotto money for,” I said.

“Setting her kid up to be a star,” said Marty.

“Elspeth is now a pop stars manger,” I said.

“Well, good for Elspeth,” said Leah.

“I’ve heard Jacki Joseph is unhappy with her lot, though,” said Marty.

“I’ve heard that too,” I said.

“Well,” said Leah. “What happened to Grace Tubbs?”

“She was hacked to death in front of her kids on the central coast by her partner Xmas morning,” said Marty.

“Oh, so no happy ending for Grace Tubbs,” said Leah.

“Nor her children?” said Marty.

“Happy fucken Xmas kids, hey,” I said.

“There’s a day they’ll be looking forward to for the rest of their lives,” said Marty.

“Ho, ho, ho,” I said.

Marty and I laughed.

“You two are going to hell,” said Leah.

Monty put his paws over his ears.

 

I Ended It

I quit smoking. Again. I know, I know, but it is still better to give up once again, than not to.

That’s it, I am done. Done, done, done. I swear it's over. Cross my heart, hope to die. It is not a lie.

Universe, just strike me down dead, if I don't comply. Do it I say! Do it, teach me okay! It is what I deserve for being so unrelentingly perverse.

I Started Again

I started smoking again, I know, weak as piss.

Actually, it was yesterday, but I have already posted yesterday, so here is the admission today.

A day late. But that is what recalcitrant reform smokers do. Chuck the. reform to the gutter boo hoo, so any information that might go with such wicked acts is clearly not going to be posted when it should. Oh no, of course not. I’m a loser with a smoking habit, again. I am not going to inform you in a precise and timely manner. Oh no I am not. Yes, again. Smoking again. Don’t be surprised I started to fucken smoke again. What kind of idiot am I, I ask you? I just kind fell on them, I did, of course I did.

Be harsh, be as harsh as you like, I deserve it, as I deserve much worse.

Think of the children! Why won’t someone thing of the fucking children?

Stinking Bitch

Stinky Rachel smelt, putrid bitch. There was no mistaking it. I could smell it wafting around my nostrils, every so often, like passing clouds, that damp, musky, rank odour just passed over me, by me, whenever she came over to my side of the office.

I wanted to say, take yourself away and wash yourself. "Hey Rach, a bit mongy today."

I wondered if it was her nylon panties across her, you know, er, doesn't bear thinking about? Or was it dirty knickers, not washed, running late this morning. Maybe, it was Rob who pinned her down before she got out of bed, leaving no time for more than a wipe down with a cloth.

Of course, she looked quite happy, oblivious, they say a dog can't smell its own rancidness. Getting up with fleas, indeed.

I don't know what the boy equivalent is? I'm not sure there is one? A smelly foreskin? I'm not sure you can really smell that underneath clothes. Too closed in, to many layers between it and the world. Where Rachel had on a dress, with only a thin layer of cotton, I can only assume, between me and her mess.

A dirty foreskin only takes a few sucks and it is clean and the smell is gone? Does a snatch work the same way? I'll have to ask my mate George, he loves talking about that stuff. That is, of course, what girls have in their favour, straight boys don't care if it stinks, just as long as they let them in.

I'm guessing the Sisterhood is scratching at the furniture and grinding their collective teeth over this story. Oh, bad me, I criticised a woman and I did it on a personal level. Boo Hoo! Am I bad?

Yeah sorry, if I have offended that Borg consciousness thing the sisterhood has got going on, I'm sorry, but it has to be done. Vile cows.

Did you pick up that I don't like Rachel B? I don't.

It is not a girl thing, as such, I work with girls all the time, I mostly have female bosses, just as it happens, all of who have become friends. But Rachel B. was just a two-faced bitch bitch. She was my boss and she used to look me in the eye and lie to my face. Yes, I am saying these things because I don’t like her. It is still true that she had vaginal odour.

Fuck it. I don’t care!

I had the Witches of Eastwick as my bosses. The Anorexic Bitch was the big boss, the Heart-Attack-Waiting-To-Happen (Apparently, she used to get chest pains, that was the goss on the down low) was Stinky Rachel’s Boss and Stinky Rachel was my boss. And they were a pack of cunts.

The Anorexic Bitch wanted me out, because she was as mad as Hitler and couldn’t stand anything below total loyalty. She was such a rude cow, so unpleasant to be around, that 12 months before she concocted a pack of lies and sacked me, I stopped talking to her. She was just a miserable piece of whatever [fill in the blank], and I stopped talking to her, stopped communicating with her, stopped acknowledging her existence. Now, I mean, I wasn’t stupid, I responded to her if she spoke to me directly, but unless she spoke to me directly, I didn’t communicate with her. I avoided eye contact with her around the office, she was dead to me, and she didn't like it.

So, The Anorexic Bitch got together with the Heart-Attack-Waiting-To-Happen and concocted misery for Stinky Rachel to inflict on me on a daily basis. Nothing I ever did was right. All of my work was picked to pieces. And whenever I questioned Stinky Rachel if there was some kind of problem that I could address, she lied to my face and said nothing was wrong.

If ever I came out of Stinky Rachel’s and my office and saw Stinky Rachel in the Heart-Attack-Waiting-To-Happen’s office, I knew trouble was on my way, and invariably my way it came, right on queue. Stinky Rachel had this attitude where she’d be sitting forward on her seat appearing to hang off every word the Heart-Attack-Waiting-To-Happen was uttering and I learned that meant they were concocting some shit for me.

I got my own back on Stinky Rachel, just a little, as my time with the awful law firm came to an end. 

Just days before, The Anorexic Bitch, accompanied by one of the loveliest HR women in the firm – who I heard through sources resigned over the treatment that was dished out to me, unconfirmed – organised a meeting and spewed half an hour of words at me, none of which were true, all of which I disputed, before the ugly, ugly women sacked me. 

I was going to resign, but I was determined to get my long service leave, so I hung on. Stupid me, I wouldn’t do that again. 

Anyway, tick, tick, tick, I only had a couple of days before my anniversary and qualifying for long service leave and therefore triggering my resignation.

As it turned out, a day, or two, before my sacking – I think it was the Thursday, I was going to resign on the Monday, but The Anorexic Bitch sacked me before I resigned, which was good for me as they paid me out a lot of money to shut me up, which I wouldn’t have got if I resign – Stinky Rachel had not only messed up the paperwork for one of the firms partners, but she had messed it up even more when she’d tried to fix the original mess. There was some important legal aspect to this, which I can’t remember now. The partner was apoplectic about the situation and she called up Stinky Rachel and absolutely read the riot act down the phone to her. She was beyond furious. Stinky Rachel had no idea what she was doing, that was the problem. She was helicoptered into the position of my boss, with no experience whatsoever, when my lovely boss, Beck, was sacked by the Anorexic Bitch a few months previously, on dubious grounds, of course.

So, Stinky Rachel couldn’t apologise enough, or suck up this partner’s arse far enough, promising on her life that she now had it all sorted out. It was a very tense phone call – which I enjoyed immensely – at the end of which Stinky Rachel told me she was done in and she had to go home early because of the drama. On her way out, she tossed the letter containing the very important, on which maybe her job depended, corrective paperwork at me, and looking down her wicked witch of the west’s nose, said, 

“Put this in the mail before you leave, will you?” 

And then she left an hour early because of the blowup. The poor petal.

This mail thing made absolutely no sense as she was practically walking past the mail box/slot/tray herself. She could have done it herself.

Anyway, stupid her. I could never understand this action. Was she so self-focused that she had no clue what the effect of her lies and scheming to get rid of me with her two senior cunts would have on me? She must have been absolutely clueless? She was dumb as ditch water, I know that. But usually, the evil and the dishonest have some sort of rat cunning. I mean, seriously?

Anyway, I was left sitting at my desk with this very important letter in my hands. Well, very important to Stinky Rachel. Something she really needed to be delivered. Was I getting this right, her job may have well depended on this letter getting to its destination? Did I have that right? Did I? Was that the story?

I tossed the letter from one hand to the other. And then back again. I twiddled the envelope in my fingers.

I looked down at the envelope in my hands.

PUT this in the mail before you leave, will you?

Put THIS in the mail before you leave, will you?

Put this in the MAIL before you leave, will you?

Put this in the mail BEFORE you leave, will you?

Put this in the mail? I tossed the letter from one hand to the other.

Put this in the mail? I tossed the letter from one hand to the other again.

Why didn’t you put it in the mail yourself? Why did you give it to me to put in the mail? Was this some sort of dominance thing? Clean up my shit, boy? I had to wonder. Not that I cared, fuck her. It was just an interesting development? And weird too. If you had a letter on which your job may have depended, don’t you think you would personally make sure it got, in this case, posted? Don’t you think?

This very important letter.

Important… letter. I said the words out loud.

Well, anyway, we had a big office and we delt in sensitive paperwork, so we had a rather large shredder. And I was supposed to be resigning in 3 work days.

Put this in the mail, before you leave, I said for the last time.

Oh yeah, Stinky Rachel, I’ll put it in the mail before I leave, sure I will.

As I said, it was a rather large shredder, and, wouldn’t you know it, Stinky Rachel’s very important, thick with very important paperwork, letter was no problem for the very big shredder.

Zzzzzzzzzzz.

I whistled as I left the office, that day, which was unusual for me.

And then I didn’t really think about it again. I had other things to think about. It wasn’t until a couple of years later that someone said to me, You know, Rachel left not long after you did. But, I didn’t care by then. Someone else from that period told me she thought Rachel was dead and the two of us had a really good laugh.

Neighbours

I puffed away first thing, I didn't even bother to get out of my robe. When the sloth sets in, the sloth sets in, what can I say? It was what I got from Jenny The Jehovis Witness a few days ago. She does a great trade in our neighbourhood.

“Can I introduce you to god?” Jenny the Jehovis Witness would ask

“No, thanks.”

“No? Well, how about introduce you to heaven?” She was quite cheeky with it.

“I’m sorry?”

“I have some great choof?” Jenny the Jehovis Witness would say next.

I liked her instantly.

The first thing I did was turn the coffee machine on and head outside to have a smoke on my balcony. Saying good morning to Bruno, across the road on his balcony, with him responding by lifting a finger in my direction.

I sat on the wicker chairs and rolled a j. The day went by oblivious in the street below.

I pretty much wanted a second j immediately after I had finished the first. I can't be that person again, I told myself.

I went and got my coffee. And a buttered fruit scone, which I’d made when I got up at sparrow’s fart. I used to sleep until midday easily, and I can’t really remember when it changed, but now I am up before the sun comes up.

Then, I ignored myself and rolled another j.

“Hey,” Bruno yelled out to me.

“Yeah, what?”

“You roll me a,” he did parenthesis in the air, “lovely morning?”

“Yeah, sure, but I’m not brining it over to you.”

“No problem, I’ll come and get it.”

“It’s ready.”

Then Bruno was running across the street between his house and mine in just his white Calvin’s. His hairy chest and hairy stomach, and his thick hairy thighs, not to mention his big dick bouncing around in his briefs with every dainty tip toe step he took, on full display.

I opened my front door. “I see you got dressed up for the occasion.”

“What to run from here to there, Jesus, Jeremy, you have to be kidding me.”

“You are not hiding anything, that is for sure.”

“Jesus fucken Christ I wear less on the beach.”

I handed him a couple of Js I’d rolled.

“You are a goddam gentlemen,” he said.

“Not working today?”

“Nah, the factory has laid us off, you know the Liberal Party privatisation when they said no one would lose their jobs?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Well, that didn’t account for the mostly casual work force that lost their shifts rather than their jobs, as such.”

“Conservative politicians can’t tell the truth, not unless it is for their own personal wealth, and even then…”

“Duplicitous liars, don’t you mean.”

We both laughed.

“I’m getting my own back on the conservative cunts, though.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m getting the dole instead of working, and I get mum and dads superannuation now that they are locked away in Uncle Luigi’s nursing home, La Tua Cura Homes.”

“How did you mange that?”

“It’s a family, Jeremy. Donta you worry about anythink, boy, saida Luigi. I takea good care ofa them. And the government she will pay for it.”

“Good for you, it can’t always be the rich who rip off society.”

“And the house isn’t in my name, so it doesn’t affect my payments.”

We both laughed again. Cackled might have been more the term for it. You have to love it when some of the average people win some times.

Then Bruno tip toed back across the street. I watched his big beefy arse wiggle in his white briefs with each step he took, running tip toe back across the bitumen.

Then I rolled another J for myself and I had heavy eye lids in no time sitting back in the chair gazing out into the street, sipping my coffee, being careful not to let my robe fall open and flash the world. I really should go and put track pants on, I thought, before Bruno gets an eyeful. I wondered if he could see that much from his vantage point?

Not that I really cared. Don’t look neighbours. Or look. I don't really give a toss.

“Hey Jeremy,” Bruno called out some time later, how long I couldn’t tell you.

“Yeah Bruno? What?”

“You wouldn't be fucken dead for quids, now would ya?”

“No, Bruno, I wouldn’t.”

“Life’s good.”

“Yeah, Bruno, life is good.”

Bruno talking again made me aware all over again that he was just over the way, so I stumbled back in my French Doors and pulled on a black pair of track pants and a grey hoodie. Different colours, as I’d just heard an, I did parenthesis in my head, expert, saying how men shouldn’t wear matching tops and bottoms when in track suits, the contrast is much more flattering.

I looked at myself in my full length mirror. I laughed at the vanity of it, but thought it did look better, more stylish, less daggy, less like Uncle Brian at a family BBQ telling homophobic stories to whoever would listen. I always wanted to say to him, let's talk about your emotional cruelty to Aunt Lois, but I was too young back then.

I stepped out onto the balcony feeling like a super model. Bruno wolf whistled from across the street.

“Just getting ready to face the day,” I called across the street to him.

“Very nice,” he said. Still just wearing a pair of tighty whities.

“Thanks,” I called back across the street.

“I wonder what the poor people are doing, hey Jeremy?” said Bruno.

“Living miserable fucken lives, Bruno, that’s what they are doing.”

“Ain’t that the fucken truth,” Bruno called back.

“Ain’t it,” I replied.

Bruno held a splif up in the air. “Here’s to ripping the system off so effectively to have a better fucken life.” He took a big drag on his doobie.

“Everyone should be doing it!” I dragged on the doobie of my own.

We both blew out lungsful of smoke in unison.

Then we both broke up laughing at our own cleverness.

 

 

Hanging Out

I shamefully decided to call Trent and Nate. Shamefully, as I hadn’t seen them since the Gold Coast trip, now, when was that, last November? And I was only dropping in because I was hanging out.

I thought of Paddy, I thought of Chad, but that would have involved driving somewhere.

I had been meaning to call Trent and Nate for I don’t know how long. Since November, I guess. And I could walk to their place.

I was twiddling my fingers at home, which led to boredom and too much time to think. I clearly, I needed a smoke, as obvious as the nose on my face, tits on a bull, oh no, that’s as useful as. Not that they knew that was why I was dropping over.

Trent and Nate were off to Thailand on Friday, apparently. They seem to be discovering travel, just lately. Where had they just come back from? I should pay more attention.

Nate said he had some growth in his ear that was affecting his hearing. He sounded worried about it. I said I’m sure it would probably turn out to be nothing. You know, as you do.

But no pot, that became apparent pretty quickly after I arrived. Nicolas was out, or Trent was making him abstain, or something. Maybe it was the ear.

So, I headed home. No, not as soon as I realised there was nothing to smoke, no, not that soon, even though I wanted to. No, I chatted a bit. Trent offered me a white wine, of course, nothing has changed on that front.

But, I didn’t chat too much, just enough to be polite and not have my intensions become glaring apparent. But, my mission was done there, after all. And while I love Trent and Nate, loved Trent and Nate once, without the bong being offered to me every so often, well, as shameful as you might think this admission is, why would I be there? Oh yes, I know, what a bitch, blah, blah, blah, but without pot, they are far less interesting, let’s face it.

And as it turned out – do I have to admit to the possibility of a god after all – Scott arrived, soon after I got home.

I hadn’t been home 10 minutes when the doorbell sounded.

“You doing anything?” asked Scott, standing on the other side of the door when I opened it.

“No,” I said.

He handed me a larger than normal plain white envelope open at one end.

“Well, roll this into something.” 

I smiled to myself, as I spied the gunger inside that envelope.

As if my self-focused, contact of old friends for ulterior motives counted for nothing, I was, actually, being rewarded with the universe providing. Lovely. It’s pretty charmed life when I think about it. Hey?

And there you have it. Ask and you shall receive, or some shit like that.

“Do you have cigarettes?” I asked.

“No,” said Scott. "I told you I quit."

Sammy said no too. He's quit also,

So, I had to go around to the shops to buy some cigarettes to mix with the pot because we have all quit smoking. Go figure. Still, it was the least I could do, even if my feet were hurting from all the walking, I had already done, chasing my addictions. Ha ha, all my walking.

Scott, and I, sat on the wicker chairs on the back veranda, smoking spliff after spliff, talking shit about the world.

“Life is good,” I said.

“Yeah, pretty good with me too,” said Scott.

“You wouldn’t be dead for quids, now would you.”

“No, not for a second,” said Scott. “Not for anything.”

We gazed out into the garden, out into the world.

“I went to Trent and Nate’s this arvo to bot a smoke off them.”

“Oh,” said Scott. “So, you had stated before I go here.”

“No, Nate didn’t have any.”

“Oh,” said Scott. 

“Fuck hey,” I said.

“Is Trent still possessive of Nate?”

“Yeah, I reckon that’s why Nate was out.”

“Why?”

“Because Trent stopped him from getting any.”

“Trent has always controlled that boy’s life.”

“I couldn’t stand it myself.”

“Nah, me either.”

Scott looked at me. I looked at him. Scott kept looking at me.

“What?”

“You rolled another one?”

“No, not yet,” I said.

“Well,” said Scott. “What’s stopping you?”

“Oh, dunno,” I said. “Waiting for you to give me the nod, I guess.”

“What?” he said. Quizical look.

“Yeah, I dunno.”

“You got somewhere else you gotta be?”

“Nah, no plans.”

“Well, go on, get rolling.”

“Your wish is my command.”

I rolled a roach.

Scott just gazed at me.

I opened my joint rolling machine and inserted the roach.

“So, there you go. If you want some sort of moral to this story, I guess it would be, um, er?” I laughed. “Get to and bot off your friends, because even if they can’t provide what you need, the universe will hear you and it will provide where others fall short.”

I poured the mix into the machine next to the roach.

Scott was still looking at me.

I pulled a paper from my rolly papers and licked it.

“Do you like that?” I said.

I inserted the licked paper into the machine.

“You got that joint rolled?” asked Scott. “I’m gagging for another over here.”

I clicked the cigarette rolling machine shut and a perfectly rolled joint popped out

“Voila,” I said. I held the freshly minted joint in the air. 

“Well, it’s no good to any one unlit,” said Scott. “Would you care to do the honours.”

“I would care indeed,” I said.

I flicked the lighter, the white cigarette burned red at the far end. I sucked the herby tasting smoke into my lungs. I took 2 more drags then I handed it to Scott.

Scott took the joint from my fingers. “You are a prince among men,” he said. He puffed on the joint. He blew the smoke into the air. Then he turned and looked at me. “Why aren’t you rolling the next joint?”

“Oh, yes, I’m on it.”

“Idle fingers are the devil's, um, er…” said Scott.

“Work,” I said.

“Work,” said Scott.

“I’ve always said that,” I said.

We both laughed.

Scott handed the joint back to me.

The afternoon was warm and serene.

“Why does Nate stay with Trent?”

“I don’t know? Daddy issues?”

“More like mummy issues with Trent.”

“Claws, Scott, claws.”

“Oh well, he is so controlling, he is like Nate’s mother. And he’s got fat.”

“They’ve both got fat.”

“I guess they are happy then,” said Scott.

“Or co-dependant lazy?”

“Does Trent still drink like a…”

“Yeah, I think.”

“You know, it is so goddam lucky we are perfect, hey?” said Scott.

“Or we’d never be able to say the things we say.”

“That would be the worst?”

“The worst.”

“Actually, living with Trent would be the worst.”

“Not being able to make fun of it would be the second worst.”

We both laughed.

“Trent offering me wine as a substitute was the worst.”

“See, you can never trust them if all they do is drink.”

“Nate has complained about that in the past.”

“And he is right to. Drunks, who can live with them, I ask you?”

I Quit

I quit, again, after another weekend of smoking pot.

I’m much nicer when I am stoned, ask anyone.

(Sam doesn’t like it though) So I have to give it away.

I'm a good boy, a good boy, I say. What a good boy am I.

(Here we go again, I know you are thinking, it has been a difficult few months, that is for sure)

I’m Little ciggie mourner

sitting in a corner,

eating a congratulatory pie;

I put in my thumb,

And pulled out a plum an extra 10 kilos

(I can feel it gathering around my stomach as I speak)

And say, ‘What a good boy am I.

What a good boy indeed.

I am developing the powers of Mister Fantastic, as I write my quitting smoking story, so I can reach around and pat myself on the back.

Never quit quitting because one day, you know, it is going to stick.

What's In Luke's Heart?

What do you think is in Luke’s heart?

Oh, I don’t know, let me take a look at him.

You need to look at him to guess what is in his heart?

Yes, of course, you don’t think I can just wing it on some vague idea of him?

Well, no, I guess not, I hadn’t thought about that way before.

Oh yes, of course, I’m going to have to have a look at him.

No problem, that is no problem. Take a look.

Otherwise, I might be in danger of making it up.

Making it up, you say?

Yes, imagining something that is there that isn’t there at all.

Well, no, we can’t have that, I suppose.

No, that wouldn’t be any good at all.

We need an honest response.

We need a true appraisal of what is in there.

Yes, we do.

I have some questions?

Fire away?

Is he nice to his mum? Is he kind to the people he loves? Does he at least think about the people worse off than he? Does he smile at the lonely widow who lives two doors away? Does he give some money, or time, to the poor? Does he help the young boy who has fallen down? Does he make those around him laugh? Does he help friends when they are in need? Would he go to a stranger’s aid in the street? Does he treat those who have alternative lives the way they want to be treated even though he doesn’t understand? Would he jump into a lake to save a puppy from drowning? Would he stand up for those being treated badly by a bully? Would he stand in solidarity for the underdog?  Is he gracious when he loses? Does he understand his privilege?