Buy some kind of jamboree bag/sweetie packet/hippy lucky dip. Find a head of grass in the bottom, shaped like Madonna and child, with a huge shiny seed where the Baby’s head should be. Begin to chew on it - a taste of sticky orange (of Haliborange chewable tablets in fact), blooms crunchingly in my mouth, I take it out, stuff it into a film container. Holly and Clive there, ask me what I’m doing. I explain. Supplies are seemingly inexhaustible. I’m worried about being caught, trying to change the nature of the thing.
Buy another of those hippy jamboree bags, take it home. Break open the pack and out tumble masses of pieces of hash, far too much for the containers, all different kinds. I’ve hit the motherlode, much to the delight of my companions
No comments:
Post a Comment