place. I removed the filter, then lit up. We finished it in a couple of minutes.
‘Thanks, Byron. I’ll come see you sometime.’
‘OK.’
He put the head back on, and walked off to the fair.
I made my way through the park to Station Road. The hawkers on the far side of the street were selling single cigarettes and orange chips to passers-by. Underneath the old Spar, groups of hobos were sitting about shouting curses regarding the others’ mothers’ vaginas, and I fancied I could smell some rather rancid genitals in the air. I think it was the smell of the extractor fans.
I walked past a barefoot man in a tie-dyed top, and then straight into a young woman dressed all in black. The books she’d been carrying fell out of her hands and crashed onto the floor. She muttered as she bent down to pick them up. She had piercings all over her face, and as she bent down I could see the tops of her pale breasts. And she was scrambling to pick up all the books, but paused for a moment too long on my right foot. I was convinced that she was examining it and so kicked the book away and carried on walking.
‘Hey!’ she shouted at me. She had a boyish harshness in her voice. ‘What the fuck’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing!’ I said. I started jogging. I really couldn’t handle another second of the outside world.
‘Fucking cunt!’ she shouted after me.
I scrambled into my house and pulled the lock behind me. I’d had enough of the world for one day. I really did have to stop smoking weed. I made myself a promise that as soon as I was finished the current bankie I would give it a break for a little while. If I was going to get respect from people I had to stop acting like a moron.
I went into the kitchen and searched through the shelves for my teapot. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I’d used it recently to make myself some weed tea, but right now all I wanted was a cup of Five Roses. I’d never really been a tea person. But when Victoria came to stay at my house she brought her teapot along with her, and when she left said I could keep it. Since then I’d developed a liking for Ceylon tea, and had discovered that if you add a few heads of higher grade weed into the mix you can preserve the taste and still get fucked. Of course I hadn’t told Victoria that her teapot was put to such use. It made her happy to think of me sipping tea on my balcony like an English gentleman, and I didn’t want to ruin the image for her.
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