Part III
It was at Varlaam that Toy had the bright-spark moment. The wind whipped in and around our group-hug, snuffing ignition attempt after ignition attempt and Nik wasted a dozen matches trying to get the joint lit. Obscenities muttered all round.
Then Toy suddenly piped up.
“Why not break the end off one of those matches and stick it in the business end of that number and strike the bloody thing on the matchbox? That’ll light it, I’d say.”
Nik was immediately on the same wave length, nodding furiously. “Yeah! Yeah! Oh! Yes!”
Marijuana, sulphurous toxins and ill-gotten vodka became the staple for the next God-knows-how-long.
~
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