3 guys and 2 hair strands ·
6 July 04

I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve seen these guys. We didn’t smoke anything until later in to the night. Actually, I lie, they presented me with a something thinner than a pencil, and only marginally longer than Maradonna’s penis. It was TINY. I looked in awe, in shock. Could something as small as this exist? I pity the fool with a dick just thicker than a piece of straw.

He gave it to me to smell. “It’s pretty potent”. It was pretty good, I’ll give him that. Still, I had mistaken it for a normal sized smoke, as when I looked at it held up, I could see the rest of the world. This was indeed thin. Potency is no good, if the deilvery is small.

God knows how, but they decided to make TWO smokes out of this anorexic, starving refugee of a smoke, but they did. Now, I did say I couldn’t imagine seening anything that small, but, shit, these weren’t small, as much as they were microscopic. A magnifying glass wouldn’t be able to find it.

As we waited, we decided to smoke those killer hair strands, sprinkled with a dash of punch. We smoked the first one. He lit it up, it was passed over, by the time it was my turn it was almost gone. Small is not the word. No one lept to take the last toke. It was so small, I don’t think anyone cared. But we felt something, I think it was the nicotine. Oh yeah, it was thin even WITH cigarette tobacco.

Maybe they thought it was a perverse dildo shaped like a bong.

By the time the first was finished, the second was lit. Aside from nicotine, we couldn’t feel anything else. He started to smile a bit more, and the other one was looking at the smoke in blank wonder. Thought bubbles appeared over his head, “I didn’t know joints could talk”. It could be the only explanation for him still sitting there smoking it, and smoke it he did. “I’m buzzing man”. Wings grew out of his back, his whole body inflated from the skinny body it originally was, a sharp lance like end pierced from his lower back. The “buzz, buzz” sound began to grow as he turned to look at us, fangs in full display, saliva dripping down them. He looks at us, jolts his head forward and says, “BUZZ”.

The tangent, and perhaps there may be more. I am making another now. The other two left, and he’s lying on the couch in his office, sleeping. While I sit here, in theory, talking to myself because writing is really me converse with myself. I wanted to listen to Led Zeppelin, but didn’t have any. I was wide a bloody wake. I had two strands of hair, and everyone else had disappeared. Bugger.

Eventually we got the gear, for £20 it was a solo banquet for a few hours. I was told that I couldn’t smoke too much as it would stink up the office and others would smell it. I said fine, and decided to pack as much as I could in the first smoke. I took the first toke, and it knocked me in the head like a ball in a squash court springing off the walls. I finally got hit.

I pretty much hadn’t eaten all day for this. To make the hit good. I had a couple of crisp pieces, 3 biscuits and some water, but I think it’s fair to say it’s only called a “meal” in third world countries. I showed them the roller, where you drop the roach, enter contents and roll. The preparation takes the longest time as it would manually. The packing and rolling for 3 left handed people like myself was it rolled and stuck in 3 seconds or less. It wasn’t the king of cones, but it was a nice king size full body, firm smoke of pure wickedness. It was a she-devil, and she was going to do some serious whipping. Enter comicbook style sound effect. Or not.

As smoke’s go, it was glorious. Not because it [the roller] could create such a great smoke, not because it was bigger and better than the others. No, it was because it tried and said “Yes I can make a great smoke! I believe in myself!”, which is why it was glorious enough to have airplanes in the sky release coloured gas in the air in its name. This is why the Queen rose up and said, “Oh Glorious Smoke! Life Does Not Get Better”, broke into song, and slid down a pole doing some weird Sound of Music dance. It got a little strange when the pigeons started playing air guitar.
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In terms of smoothness, I made a very nice mixture of cigarette tobacco and herbs. I also ensured that I had the trusty mints with me. “Why the mints?”. It was a good question, but I gave them plausible options, even I didn’t know the actual facts myself.

“Well, the reason for the mint is three fold:

1) when you smoke, it won’t leave a bad after taste thanks to the mint
2) when you smoke it cools the smoke down like ice, therefore you get a cooler, cleaner toke
3) it tastes good and freshens your breath”

They seemed likely, and they concurred and went a long with it. Expect the other one, who was too stoned and didn’t get it until we passed the second straw joint, and then wanted it back so he cold try it with the mint. It was an interesting reason to toke, and he said he didn’t feel any different. Yet, he was stoned off his face and barely talked, god knows who was talking to him in his head. Perhaps no one, this may not be as illogical as you think.

An example of this, is when he asked what Black Books was. I explained it was a comedy about this guy who owns a bookshop, has an assistant, and a neighbouring shop keeper, is an alcholic and doesn’t sell books. It was one of those, “Why?” moments you get with young children, who aren’t being annoying, but are just breaking you down from being a grammatically fluent adult, to grammatically simple.

This is no bad thing, as it cuts to the bullshit. Perhaps we should all talk simple, and stop hiding behind angst, metaphors and dull tones. He asked why he didn’t want to sell books. I explained he wanted a bookshop, but no customers. He asked why, I explained, he asked why, I explained. The gear could not arrive soon enough for me, as I continued to explain. Eventually HE gave up, thank god for the buzz.

He started to smile a bit more, and the other one was looking at the smoke in blank wonder

Well, so much for the bong. I had brought it along in the hope that we would use it. It had four pipes; perhaps that was too much for them. Maybe they thought it was a perverse dildo shaped like a bong. Maybe they thought I was weird, but whatever the case, they chose not to discuss it’s use. I pondered as to whether I should have brought the pipe, at least I would get a clean toke of the gear through some method. The bong was an ass to carry, and now we weren’t using it.

I had assumed they had the gear already, but when we talked about the stuff I had, they assumed I also had my own gear. It seems they didn’t surmise that I had no gear. I said I was told they had some. They did, and it turned out to be Pee Wee Herman, and 5 year old friend Martin.

We tried to watch Slackers. We started from the beginning 7 times before they heard the opening lines. It was quite scary as to how high they were. This was after the hair strands. By the time we smoked the new gear, he had laid himself out on the couch for comfort. The other one sat in his chair watching, and the new guy watched with us. By the time he got up, the film was almost over. He went back, and returned after a short slumber and asked again – the film was over.

He was slurring, mumbling, lost, unable to finish a question or sentence. The other kept saying he was buzzing and wouldn’t smoke anymore. The new guy had to drive home, which left me, so I watched some DVDs and smoked. Everyone else was high or coudn’t do so, but I had no reason not to. Besides, why not be generous to the herb, it deserves as much attention as a child. Actually, smokes are more important than children. There is no reason to justify this claim, because it was written so…..

So, my smoke is made, it required some surgery, so I used a watermelon skin to repair the damage. As my belt squeezes on my bladder, I realise I need to loosen it, as I took my trainers off, am feeling tired, and the toilet is only working on the top or bottom floor, not the one I am on. And it’s not a short treck. Paranoia down dark corridors would ensure. Blinking lights, doors opening and closing. People being happy. It was too spooky to think about. Well, here’s to your health mofo!