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?”