The Prettiest Nightmare

Chapter 18

1996 push down and slide across out two two dollar coins, one one dollar and two fifty cent coins along the scratched science room desk. Ok Dennis, I can chuck in six bucks, what can I get for that, will that get me stoned? Yeah. Cause I smoked a joint before, and all it got me was a hole burnt in the flyscreen of my room. This shit is good, it’s buddha. Fuckin hell, sounds strong. Yeah mate, it’s the best, wait’ll the weekend, you’ll see… Crush crossed legged back shed floorboards, from the cane chair he passes down a packed tin foil cone piece packed stinking lighter torn bottle bong. Don’t spill it. Nah, so this shit is strong? Yeah, fuckin oath it is, just smoke it, like I told you. Chickclicchicclichickclick. That’s it. Three or four pipes later he plays broken. Request a song, but he doesn’t know it and plays one I don’t know. Soon sitting outside on a rusty metal chair he runs out with no shirt. I’M A FUCKIN KOALA! Nipples = eyes, a grey oval detergent top pushed onto his skinny solar plexus = nose and his belly button = mouth. Hahahahahaha I think I may piss myself or fall off the seat. Laugh for five full minutes until my floating funny face tingly aches. Ah fuck this, let’s go for a walk, I gotta buy something to drink. What you doing tonight? Goingtoaparty. Yeah? Yeah, I’m probably gonna fuck Rachel, already fingered her twice. Fucckk… Yeah she’s alright, what are you going to do? Don’t know, think I might go home and read. Hahaha you’re stoned mate. Am I? Let us look at your eyes, fuck, they look like little arses, try to keep em open ay. Like this? Christ, they’re red as! Yours aren’t red at all. Tolerance build up, man. Hehehecoughcough. We spongey step down the cracked concrete path padding past the inner city sheep paddock, looking in houses wondering if anyone else is smashed in them, wondering how the clouds grow so high, what’s their motivation, through the park cutting across the oval and screaming hoarse at the sound dome and then we’re at the supermarket. Man, you go in there and buy a fuckin Cocoanut bar, believe me… What, why, where are you going? I’m takin in this (holds up a badly worn and totally fake boating licence) and going in to get something to get me smashed. Alright. Waiting on the cold soft blue seat outside six spinning minutes later unwrap the Cocoanut bar. Slowly unwrap it. Oh, the smell! POP! AH FUCK! Holding a busted brown bag and a bottle. Hahaha, scared ya, so here he is, wasted, how is it? Bite in. Jeeeesuu-


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