In Busselton I try and find a beanie to keep me warm. I eventually find a womens beanie that costs 50 cents. I give the old man behind the counter a dollar and tell him to keep the change. He gives me the head-wear and then a dirty look for free. The next thing I want to find is somewhere I can buy real rolling papers, long ones. I see a group of girls obviously staying near here and ask them:
"Is there a tobacconist in Busselton?"
"You mean Maccas?" These girls are country bumpkins. This one is short, buck-teeth and freckles that make her look dirty, not cute.
"No, a tobacconist."
"A what?" A cute little blond with sparkles on her skin asks. Perfect little pixie.
"Somewhere I can buy tobacco and all related smoking paraphernalia like pipes and papers."
"They only exist in America." An overweight girl steps in front of her flirty friend so she can be a literal ****-block.
"I'm from Albany and live in Perth: trust me, there's a lot them." I explain calmly
"Yeah, will this is Busselton! Why would they have one here!" This bullish chick is enraged.
"Really? I could have sworn it were Amsterdam." I reply as I try and walk past her.
She steps into my path. "Well you couldn't get any anyway because you're not 18, could yah? Idiot."
"I am 18." I'm getting sick of this argumentative fat *****.
"Then you're too ****in' old to be here then aren't yah, toolie!"
I feel like just calling her an idiot and cussing her out in front of her friends. Going on a tirade, a verbal rampage, pouring a frenzy of insults over her head until she cracks and tries to hit me. Then I'd jog off slowly, shouting "Run fattie, run!" I'd let myself be trapped in a corner. She'd approach, snorting and frothing at the mouth like an overworked cow. "Catch me heifer!" I'd say as, with ease honed by parkour, I climb a wall and laugh down at her.
Instead I say "Well, you're just wrong. Get used to that feeling." She nearly does hit me before storming off, a big fat rain cloud dripping in the sun.
"Try the IGA." The blond whispers to me while walking past. The evil lump throws a glare back, a look which says stay back, that boy ain't right. My freckled little friend fears fattie, flees and has her fairy tail between her legs. ****. I would have gone there so hard.
Before I get to the IGA, I kill three flies with one slap. I'm reminded of the tale of the fly-slayer who everyone thought killed giants. What a bad ass. I think the moral had to do with not boasting and having people exaggerate your claims in their own minds. Otherwise I didn't get it at all. I was seven after all.
Inside IGA the elderly woman behind the counter asks to see my I.D. She then shows it to four other members of staff before one of them, exasperated, tells her it obviously isn't a forgery and to go serve me. She is a doting old woman, senile from years of being alone. I imagine her husband died but her religious beliefs never will.
"What can I get for you?"
"A packet of Marlboro reds, 25."
"What brand?"
"Marlboro."
"We don't have that."
I'm shocked. A very generic brand to not carry. "Ok, what do you have?"
"Check the list." She points at a piece of paper behind her. The bottom item on it is Marlboro.
"Um... The bottom ones. Reds."
"Marlboro?"
"Yep, 25 reds."
"What colour?"
"Red."
"We have gold, red and blue."
"Red. I want a 25 pack of Marlboro reds."
"Red."
"Yes. 25 of them."
"How many?"
"25"
"We have 20."
"Ok. 20 is fine."
"Ok." She runs it through the till, still smiling the sickly smile of senility. Her mind is gone, her job should be and I hope to God her license is. "Anything else?"
"A packet of papers."
"What kind of papers?"
"What?"
"Well, there's a lot of kinds of paper. Do you want rolling, do you want wrapping, do you want baking..." she prattles off a list of the kinds of paper I might mean until I stop her.
I'm tempted to say baking, given their future use. Instead I say "I'm at the cigarette counter. I want rolling papers."
She looks around as though to check if I'm telling the truth. She lets out a soft ooh. "Which ones?"
"The biggest packet."
She runs it all through the till for me. It comes to $17.95c. I bought the cigarettes for an underage friend, I don't smoke. On the way out I pass three signs saying not to do this exact thing, it is a crime. In Australia it isn't a crime for a child to smoke, no matter the age. It is however a crime for a child to buy, be sold, given or steal cigarettes. Despite the fact there is no way for a kid to access them without breaking the law; once a minor is smoking the law never intervenes. When I give the guy a pack of papers, he gives me twenty bucks. Jez buys one straight joint for ten. I feel like we should buy more but the friend won't let us; he says he wants to smoke the rest. Irritating considering he promised us seven such joints for $40 earlier that same day. ****ing stoners.
"****ing stoner's."
"You know, no matter how much weed you smoke, you're never a stoner."
"What do you mean?"
"You never talk like a stoner, walk like a stoner or dress like one."
"Probably because stoner's are **** at all three of those things." I hit another fly. "14."
We walk to the bus to get back to our little native community. On the way there I find a fake leavers wristband on the floor. It is made with a piece of orange and red cloth, a barcode from some grocery and someone has written "Leavers" on it in felt-tip pen. The fact that I found it all the way out here implies it actually worked. Impressive.
Waiting for the bus, a derro approaches. "Hey, any you guys want to buy a I-phone?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"None of us want a stolen phone."
"Why not?"
"Are you for real?" I stare at him until he leaves.
We get back to the park that is our gathering point. Before we get there we get some amazing ice-cream, fantastical. Flavours I've never tried are next to flavours I've never heard of are next to four variations of cookies and cream, from Oreo to Butterfinger. At the gathering point Jeremy rolls a joint out of the straight one with some spin, cigarette, citing sleep deprivation as the reason I can't. I go to the bathroom, but I still have the papers. I'm naked so I try to pass them through a crack between Jez's toilet and mine. Instead it falls through, into the wall. Lucky they catch on a ledge about four inches down. It's well out of reach of either of our fingers. He says he'll go to get more. I jump up on the toilet and see they're salvageable.
"Wait!" I exclaim, excited. I pull out a bank card and use it to lever the papers up. I manage to get them two inches up, my movements are jerkier than normal and I nearly fling them down the abyss inside this wall. Jez jumps up and manages to catch the blue packet with the edge of his fingertips; it stands out of the cream coloured inside of the wall and reminds me of babies.
"Dude, hurry!" I get my bank card under the papers and shimmy them towards him. Slowly he gets another finger on them, then another and he starts to try and drag them over the edge. They nearly fall at this point but I'm fast and catch them on my bank card. I lift the card over the him and he takes them back. I jump off the toilet and sit on the toilet. One of the most satisfying ****s of my life follows. When I finish I have to wait for Jez outside, he has finished rolling but only just started ****ting. A girl I've been on dates with comes over to me. She is bland. She shares a name with a cartoon character, or a doll, besides that I know not much about her. Some guy finds her interesting and I know that; she isn't boring. Don't get me wrong. It's just that, ignoring her looks, I don't find her intriguing. She tells me she knows I'm going to get high. She crosses her arms and judges me.
"Alcohol is a poison; they use weed to treat cancer."
"Do you have cancer?"
"Statistically speaking, even if I don't, I probably will before I die." A flies life ends as though to punctuate the point. "21."
We go to the beach and we get high. Emma and Neema join us, they drink and share some with Jez. When the smoke enters my lungs it wakes me up, I feel energized, alert and ready for action. I also feel really ****ing high. This is characterized by an increase to the definition of the world. There are just more details. I can see the waves on the ocean as normal; but now I can tell it's salt water by the way it ripples. I can see those same wave patterns mirrored in the same. I can see salt shining off that too. I can notice the exact point sky becomes sea and sea becomes sky. I see all.
Then we go inside to get ready and I have another shower. It isn't as good as yesterdays, meaning I don't achieve orgasm from the feeling of fresh, warm water this time. I dial the knob back to "You must be crazy man" level cold and shiver like an epileptic.
I get out as Ari's mum is preparing last nights left overs for the girls to eat. One of these girls is drunk to the point Ari's mum can't take it anymore. She locks herself in her room. The other girls try to hush the screaming drunk.
"Ally, shut up!"
"But I want to take the magic cookies to the boys!"
"You can't take the magic cookies to the boys, they'll take your virginity?"
"So? The boys next door are cute."
"Ally, you're not losing your virginity right now. You're too drunk."
I interject; "That's true Ally. If you're this drunk for your first you'll regret it for sure."
She considers this and opens her mouth, but before she gets a single word out Ari starts shoving them down her throat. "Ally, you have to shut the **** up because you've pissed off my mum. You've being rude, loud and disrespectful."
Ally gets a tear in her eye while nodding the whole time. When Ari finishes she runs off into her room, then the bathroom attached because she can't figure out how to shut the door.
