The book - bit by bit

[lukas989]

Maybe the mellon collie provided by the conversation acted as a catalyst - but upon completion, Wayne decided to work the room...a nightmare for the unwitting victims about to be baraged with unspeakable, aggressive bollocks, doubly so owing to the 5-6 pints of local ale settled ominously in his belly.  He watched on, cringing at the faces of those who sat on the receiving end of the tirade, attempting to force forth sympathy towards their line of vision, as they sought desperately via darting eyes for any potential escape route from the torment.  The whole episode was made more uncomfortable by Wayne stopping every so often, and staring directly and resolutely at the audience, awaiting reaction; forcing them to partake in the analysis.  The same reaction was always evident: a solid minute rapid eye movement, head-turning and panic, followed by a shrug of the shoulders which was met with disdain and mockery from Wayne, who'd then dress them down for not at least holding an opinion on the subject.  Then he'd move on.  He visited three tables, addressing a total of 11 people - by the end, only four remained.  The turn of events prompted conferences and concerned stares across from the bar staff, actions which continued for the remainder of the time spent in the pub.  He felt almost obliged to reason with the people that had fallen victim...yes he was here with the guy, but he wasn;t like that, he wasn't represented by the guy.  If he had a reputation to protect, it was one that was non-threatening - to the point where he'd endeavour to defuse threatening situations wherever possible.  But with Wayne, it was one of those where he struggled to see how this was possible.  All he ever envisioned was a fire of insanity spreading until everything was engulfed.

[lukas989]

The mass departure has fortunately created a void of inspiration within Waynes mind, and he opted to return to his seat, instead of continuing the onslaught.  He glanced at Wayne awkwardly, who wore a glazed expression on his face, apparently experiencing an attack of the negative aspects of alcoholic consumption.  He mentally breathed a sigh of relief at the sight...finally a break from the action.  He reached for his pint of guinness in front him him, and was disturbed by a grab at his arm, prompting reflex actions of pint spill avoidance.  It was Wayne...immediately arising panic; he attempted to quell the oncoming with a warm smile.  Wayne tugged at his arm a couple of times, prompting him to replace his pint on the table.  The grabbing ceased....Wayne casually swinging his other arm round to a position hovering above his hand.  He opened his acceptingly, feeling the sensation of something dropping into the centre of his palm.  He looked back up at Waynes face, who muttered 'drop it now mate'.  He didnt hesitate...if there was one thing he had learned this evening, it was that confrontation with Wayne was less hassle than consumption of drugs.  He reached for his pint once more to assist with the wash down, and caught the eye of Dave, who offered an expression of affirmation.  He responded with a gentle nod.  Dave gestured with his eyes towards Wayne and smiled - he looked round joining in the smiling at the sight of Waynes head tilted back, complete with mouth ajar.  The table responded favourably to adjourning to Daves place upon completion of the current round.  It was announced that they'd be joined shortly by a guy named Brian, which prompted a Wayne revival; his head snapping back into place, grabbing his pint and dropping the remaining three quarters full.  ''Is he coming carrying?' asked Sam, Dave nodding in response.  Ian clapped his hands together in response grinning.  'All will be revealed' offered Ian, acknowledging his unknowing expression.

[lukas989]

Brian arrived ten to fifteen minutes later, identified by the acknowledging glances from all around him.  Brian strode carefully up to the their table, an almost deliberately gormless look on his face.  Quite obviously fucked, he announced his arrival with a drawled 'alright boys' in a thick Australian accent.  'Alright Bri...good then is it?'  prompted Dave asking the question the rest looked ready themselves to ask.  'Fucking great,' he tittered, before offering that they return to Daves post haste...his level of fuckedness, seemingly obvious to him.  Dave extended the request with 'lets go' eyes, and they all stood grabbing their coats.  He purposely took his time, allowing the others to steal a march, so he could assess from afar.  He was fairly sure hallucinogenics were behind Brians state of mind, and he found himself making early preparations in remaining calm and serene and positive.  He'd had a great time on mushrooms and acid and stuff previously, always welcoming the experience wholeheartedly and as such venturing forth into a wonderful and enlightening experience.  He had also witnessed the flipside of the effects - people who had consumed alongside him, had thusly descended into the depths (well somewhere below norm), of despair, bringing upon miserable moanings of regret and a search for constant reassurance.  And it was more this he was dubious of, in spite of his own preparations..that distinct possibility that certain members of the group - namely Wayne - would descend into a fuller more negative version of what they were currently portraying...and with Wayne that unfortunately presented the distinct possibility of one nasty fucker.   

[lukas989]

The outside temperature belied the 11pm hour, the balmy conditions now installed as the norm after several months of struggle coming to terms with it.  As a Scotsman, balmy wasn't really a subject he had a great deal of previous experience with.  He caught the eye of Dave ahead, looking back at him, who then deliberately halted allowing him to draw alongside.  He recognised the effort to put him at ease...he knew in spite of himself he gave off an aura of naivety, which was generally only half true...there was no doubt he was no man of the world in the purest form - but at the same time he made a conscious decision to be open and embracing of experience if it so happened to fall into his lap.  It was the hunting of it that was less evident.  It turned out Dave however was perhaps wise to the concerns regarding Wayne swimming through his mind, and was therefore the putting at ease of mind was solely regarding this point.  He Appreciated it, and the both of them were able to convey their message through minimal of explanation...he was concerned sure...but he was ready at the same time.  Nothing like numbers to quell the potential of trouble flaring - not to mention the familiarity amongst them all.  It was very much the case he was the most outsiderish of the gang, and he knew for a fact there was little chance of him swinging punches or hurling excrement towards the nights end.  Regardless, Daves knowing smile in conclusion was a comfort.  As they walked into the building containing Daves flat, Ian offered a follow up reassuring glance, playfully jabbing him on the arm, with a 'fear not this'll be fun,' tone to his 'alright mate?' prompt.  He nodded.  He expected fun, there was no doubt there - it was just whether or not he'd be forced into a battle to hang onto it he was dubious about.

[lukas989]

The short jaunt to Daves building - a semi-high rise block of flats - was pleasantly incident-free; a short parade of twos and threes, lost in the excited conversation regarding what was to unfold.  Dave continued along the path of mind easing - highlighting the apparent joyousness Brian was experiencing, coupled with the veteran status of everyones drug use...he was in safe hands here.  The group dynamic would always quickly stifle the apple cart upsetter.   In a way it kind of saddened him a little that he never (at least up to now) had set a precedent whereby he was seen as someone who was wise to it all, there was no reason to feel concern for.  But he did his usual, responding with short warm responses in appreciation at the effort.  They reached the front door to the building, those ahead slowing and stepping either side, allowing Dave to venture forward with the entrance offering key fob.   Hands reached out in quick succession, acknowledging their turn to hold ajar the door, as they all filtered in.  Some voices hushed to a much lower decibel level, in respect of the surroundings: front doors to peoples homes all around them...that is with the exception of Wayne and Sam, who continued their own convo at the same level, making him cringe at the potential tuttings from behind all the doors.  Not to mention the subject matter of their conversation was cunnilingus.  When it became rapidly clear this was ne'er to cease Dave offered a polite yet damning, 'Guys...' accented with narrowed eyes and serious thinned mouth.  Wayne guffawed before offering a legit apology.   Dave - seemingly satisfied with this, jabbed the call button for the lift, and the group rode out the few seconds waiting in silence.

[lukas989]

The four floor trip up the lift was punctuated with Wayne unnecessarily continuing the apologising, unmoved into ceasing by Daves sighings, and 'Its fine''s.  He casually searched the faces of everyone else - a combo of non-reaction (Ian), amusement (Sam) and fascination in the reflections in the shiny metal surfaces of the lift (Brian).  The lift shunked to a halt, Dave leading the turns towards the door, anxiously waiting to slink out through the gap as soon as he was able.  He now ignored the continued banterings of Wayne, seemingly oblivious he was again committing the crime he was so intent on apologising for.  Dave swiftly turned his key in the door, ushering everybody in, silently looking to the group to allow Wayne in first.  He looked to Brian, making sure he entered ahead of him, such was the low level of confidence he had in Brian performing everyday tasks even slightly well.  He followed after Brian, grinning at the sight of him tracing his fingers over the seventies style wallpaper, a look of astonishment etched on his face.  Sam snapped him out of it, sharply repeating his name until he had his attention, then beckoning him through to the living room.  He followed behind after a glance at Sam to share in the mirth.  Daves place was crammed high with all manners of stuff; books, dvds, records, various examples of yesteryears technologies (computers, radios, tvs and so on), resulting in a requirement for many a stance shift towards the comfort of the inviting yet ugly couches.  'Right guys, wont be a mo,' Dave announced, turning on his heels to somewhere off beyond the living room door.  Sam led the inquest into the experience Brian was having - very much playing the good cop, asking about the things he was seeing, and suchlike.  Wayne unfortunately, decided to partake in the cliched roleplay, and launched headfirst into bad cop.

[lukas989]

The return of Dave, coincided with Wayne first blunt verbal attack on Brian, combining a threatening tone with a brief summary directed at the rest of us, meant as a way of explaining the tidal wave of abuse.  'You're a special kind of cunt, arent you Bri...Brian here, fucked some random bitch in Germany, got her pregnant, then ran here ignoring his responsiblities....isnt that right Bri?  You fucking weak weak prick.'  He fought with the urge to step forth and interject on Brians behalf, noting with ease the venom with which Wayne was fuelled up with, was toxic to say the least.  Glancing around the room, the faces told a story of intrigue, and previous knowledge of these types of event springing forth, and thus using them as an oppurtunity to sit back and take in a story they regale to others.  Unfortunately for Brian he was henceforth on his own to tackle it, with a head full of (presumably) acid.  The comments rolled on and on - he unfortunately found himself the focal point of Waynes catch up paraphrasing, and he winged it as best he could with a feigned interest and curiosity, in an effort to mask the wide eyed horror, his face was naturally wanting to project.  He took the opportunity to glance at Brian, whenever it presented itself, and the discomfort was there in abundance...he guessed the difficulty in dealing was in the most normal of circumstances was hard enough, let alone whilst contending with the mind contortions brought on by drugs.  Dave sat waiting, his face etched more with a impatient, 'hurry up and get it over with'  type strain, clasping something in his hand.  In unwitting answer to this, Brian broke the onslaught, announcing 'Im off - you're spinning me out Wayne', clearly exasparated, as he unsteadily rose from his seat.  Wayne responded immediately, ' Im spinning you out?  Its the least you deserve you fucking wanker,' offering plenty evidence that physical altercation was moments away.  Dave, sporting veteran-like instincts, stepped forth towards Brian, placing a hand on his arm, guiding him through the living room, towards the exit.  As they disappeared, Wayne himself arose, announcing 'Im going to threaten him - you guys think I should threaten him?', already moving swiftly, prior to any answer received.  Sam chuckled, watching him leave, then glancing at him, shaking his head with a look of disdain and an eye-roll to the heavens.  Un-decipherable mutterings were heard in the hallway for a few moments, then both Wayne and Dave returned, highlighted with an intense stare towards him from Wayne, punctuated with, 'Right - who shall I start on now - you I think,' gleefully rubbing his hands together intensely.  'Give me your best shot Wayne,' He retorted.

[lukas989]

The words leaving his lips coincided with a rush of adrenaline coursing through him, anticipating a backlash.  The fear was answered immediately with a knowing laugh and immediate dismissal of pursuit however, Wayne seemingly happy that his path of misanthropy was now at a close.  He laughed back, quenching a desire to stand and hug Wayne, in thanks for not exploring the initial threat.   He stayed alert until Wayne was comfortably back sitting in his seat, occupying himself with rolling a joint.  Dave moved the passage of events onto the moment they had been waiting for - a moment they no doubt would have reached already if it hadn't been for the Wayne whathaveyous' - but that only made for a raised level of anticipation and excitement.  Dave produced a small bottle from the breast pocket of his plain blue shirt, setting it briefly on the table as he fished in his other pocket for some rizla papers.  'Who first gents? he offered, glancing warmly round the room.  'Clockwise seems fair to me,' Sam offered, generously(?), therefore putting him first in the firing line, Sam second. 'Yeah fire on mate,' Ian seconded, motioning with a nod in his direction.  He watched as Dave carefully let four droplets of the liquid in the bottle, soak the rizla paper below, moving back slightly, prompting him to pick it up with a sharp glance.  'Down the hatch mate,' he instructed, a wry smile on his face, as he picked up the soggy paper and popped it in his mouth.  He let his tongue crush the paper into a more easily swallowed snack, and gulped it down.  Sam gave a mock cheer, impatiently muttering 'me next me next'.   He looked round the room for moral support, swallowing in by the wide grinned gawp of Wayne, perhaps deliberately in tow with his utterings of 'Too late now matey' followed by an evil chuckle.  He brushed it off with a scoff, now concentrating on watching Dave prepare the second paper for consumption.  'Get a second joint built mate,' Dave then instructed, producing a lump of resin from the same pocket as the bottle.  He birghtly responded, 'Sure,' glad of the opportunity to use his hands for something other than clasping together in front of him.  The snap of a lighter sounded from across the room, as Wayne lit his freshly produced joint, followed by a question to Ian, ' So what was your mum saying to you then Ian?' 'What about mate?  Oh the recovery you mean?  Same shit she always says mate.  Thats the problem with never having done heroin - you just dont fucking understand the shit that a person goes through the other side of it.'

[lukas989]

Of all the things he didnt want to hear, after having dropped a soggy acid dripping rizla, this was right up there.  He understood the desire to experiment with mind alteration - but never heroin.  He had no doubt there was much joy to be experienced taking the stuff - but it was rare he heard of someone leading a great life with a solid dependency on the big H.  And to be honest, there wasn't a whole heap of trust he associated with Ian without this knowledge - know he knew there'd be a struggle to maintain any composure whilst talking to him.
'Yeah mate,' he continued. 'When you feel the way you do coming off, the last shit you need is someone telling you fucked up crap like 'clear up your stuff and get out'!  Couldn't believe it...me own fucking mother!'
A concentrated level of wonderment stained his mind...disbelief at the gall of the statement.  He pictured vividly, a random made up woman (in his mind a buxom blonde 45 year old...for some reason he pictured Ians mother as a woman who had been considered hot in her day, but had been ravaged by the life she'd led...had a kid, split with her partner, raised him by herself, went through all sorts of shit as he got in trouble...etc etc) shouting frustratedly at her monged out son - lolling incoherently on a sheetless stained mattress, oblivious to the absolute torment and shame he brought out in his only present parent.  If anything, he imagined once the withdrawal had diminished, once the excuse of desperation and pain had rid itself from him, surely the next phase was seeking forgiveness...doing all he could to make it up.  But apparently, at times there were those who saw it differently.  A handy reminder that for grantedness wasn't to be fallen upon, as every now and again the pillow of comfort would have a shard of glass stuffed deep within it.  He skilfully then managed to stifle a guffaw and turn it into a cough, brought upon by the retort by Wayne. 'Some people are just cunts mate.  Only interested in number one.'  The double barrels of both agreeing with the distaste felt at not sympathising and labelling the afflicted mother the c-bomb was one only real life could provide...there was no shock tactics being sought here - this was genuine thoughts bearing their ugly face right in front of him, away from the prying eyes of the world.  And with that, the pull of the acid tugged at him, grabbing him at the very moment his mind was awash with fear and disbelief, and hurt.

[lukas989]

It was just starting - there was still time to get positive and happy.  Bad shit happened all the time...no point dwelling.  Of course the very fact it was happening right here in front of him...he halted the thought path there and then - focus.   The conversation Wayne and Ian were having continued, evermore depressing in its tone.  He switched his attention as casually as he could between Sam and Dave, hoping to gain an insight into their thoughts of the proceedings.  Perhaps there was experience, a better poker face, a lack of caring....whatever - the evidence showed a far superior handling on their behalfs than he felt he was achieving.  Sam suddenly cut through the dark babble, and asked Dave if some tunes could be stuck on.  Dave springingly arose, full of optimistic aggreeance at the suggestion.  'What you fancy mate?', he offered.  'I dunno...something to fit the tone I reckon...dancey trippy crazy shit!'  His attention grabbed, by the opportuniy to interject, he put forward Aphex Twin as a solid named suggestion for the description.  'Heh yeah, pretty much bang on mate!' responded Sam enthusiastically, seemingly reacting the apparent mind reading he'd achieving.  'Isnt any mate sorry...I do have a couple suggestions however...', Dave trailed off as the hunt through plastic crates of records commenced, laid sporadically around the decks at the far end of the room. 'Yeah Aphex Twin - they're fucking great mate!' continued Sam nodding in accompaniment.  He smiled back in agreeance, the burden of replying taken away by Sam, who then plunged headlong into a tale about being on a French skiing holiday - where naturally he found himself going out and getting supremely fucked every night...and as it happened, Window Licker by Aphex Twin had provided the backdrop to him getting lucky with a local hot blonde - complete with a broken leg.  He chortled with increasing vigour at the memory of having sex with her, her buxom plaster covered leg placed gently on his shoulder to allow for easy penetration.  The tale proved just the tonic for him...demonstrated by the laughter overreaction - he continuously giggled at the words for several minutes after.  'Tickled you that one mate?'  a smiling Dave asked, to which he nodded back, hand over mouth in an effort to regain composure.

[lukas989]

Sam seemed to sense the onrush of the acid in him, conveying the fact with a knowing stare.  He reflected in kind, happy that he was sharing this wondrousness with someone he trusted.  The thought prompted him to turn to Dave, but instead of a grinning sniggering face, he saw a hunched over figure from the rear, busily continuing the search for the perfect mood fitting music.  He glanced back at Sam, who answered with, 'Yeah, hes up mate, the image will become clearer once the tunes are on.'  Dave, on cue, then slid a record out from the stack, and paced confidently behind the decks, expertly retrieving the record from its sleeve, fingers all edges; lightly blowing either side, before placing it gently onto the left turntable.  A thumping straight four bass drum pumped energetically out of the two tall speakers, joined eight bars later by disjointed hi hats.  He let his foot join the beat of the bass drum...minutes passing before he was aware of not having done anything other than stare at the red standby light on the dvd player the other side of the room, the whole time his heel bapping off the floor.  The standby light was far more interesting than usual of course, hence the several minutes worth of intrigue.  A sudden burst of noise in the music after a titanic build up brought him out of the trance, eyes brought away to assess the room.  Sam was smiling broadly at him, lips pressed together in a clear supportive gesture for the music.  A rush of tingly joyousness rushed up the back of his neck, in gleeful acknowledgement - the sight of Wayne somehow passed out on the couch next to Sam heightened this immensely almost feeling the urge to climb to his feet and dance.  The thought brought more laughter from him, chorused by a louder more deliberate laugh from Sam.  Ian spent the whole time staring upward, eyes squeezed shut, head gently swaying in a manner not traditionally associated with any obvious beat the song was producing, but he suspected in a way that made perfect sense to Ian.  Dave had compiled a tidy stack of follow up record to play, which brought about the desire to ditch their surroundings and hit a club somewhere.  The thought of women suddenly popped into his head, insofar as to the lack of them for a considerable period...it was this sort of mood women should be in his company - amood where inhibitions where null and void.  He spent no further time dwelling on it however - he equated that however much of an effect his verbal magic would have, the formula would always equal a negative, owing the high likelihood the amount of drugs and drink in his system, meant his johnson was practically ineffective.   

[lukas989]

He chuckled to himself at the previous thought...never in his life ever had he had a one night stand, or for that matter sex within the first 24 hours of meeting someone...either sex.  In fact it was just with one sex over the complete history of his existence.  The musing over both sexes was irrelevant - here within the confines of his mind it was safe and harmless to throw some thought upon, away from mockery and so on.  He knew for a fact this here in front of him was no audience for the matter.  But gay sex...it never crossed his mind in a casual, and meaningful way, never had a rousing from his groin arisen from the sight of a penis - flaccid or erect - yet still during his teenage years, he would often muse on whether he was actually gay, owing to the complete lack of success he had experienced with the opposite sex.  It never occurred to him that flat arses and facial hair were actually supposed to turn him on; there was a lot more to it that sharing a convo about football or monster trucks.  It hadnt lasted long - there was too much intelect going on for that crazy angle to remain a constant...so much in fact, he'd once decided to prove to himself that giving blowjobs and anal sex werent part of his future, by actually buying a gay porno to see if an erection made itself present.  It was hard work - this was pre-get anything you want on the internet times, and involved biting the bullet in sharingh his name and address with some random sex shop worker out there who kindly posted him a movie starring several toned dudes pretending to be american football players involved in extra time in the changing rooms and so on.  His face was a crimson embarrassment when he went through the complete motion of receiving the package, pulling it out of the box, placing it in the dvd player, and witnessing the shitest acting ever, leading up to zero romance fondling and sucking.  He lasted about 4 minutes of scene one, before he realised 'its chicks for me'.  The thought of the two guys wrestling over each others solid dongs would pop into his head from time to time, reprising the crimson flush, and often prompting whoever was in his company at the time to ask if he was alright.  At least he had closure...was the price of gaining it was all.

[lukas989]

On this occasion the musing caused him to titter uncontrollably as to the inanity of himself during the tender teenage years.  Sam joined him, asking what without saying the words, to which he shook his head shrugging his shoulders.  'You managing to keep the enjoyment going mate?' asked Sam to which he nodded enthusiatically...he had many a bullshit thought to keep himself entertained at the best of times...let alone at a time when even the most innocuous of thoughts caused mirth of the highest order. 'Actively trying to avoid slipping into a crazy thought pattern mate,' Sam continued without proper prompting. 'Tend to find when the mind wanders it opens a strong possibility of descending into the sinister...and that the last thing Im looking for.  Been spending the last twenty minutes building imaginary bricks in front of myself..kind of like a concious sheep count.'  He smiled and nodded as if to suggest he knew where he was coming from...but in all honesty the possibility of slipping into the sinister had not even crossed his mind.  Which, it struck him, was altogether quite extraordinary, what with the events of the evening, and the unknown element of some of those...in fact all, if truth be told, of those around him, seeing as how he didnt really know much about any of them, outside of his presumptions.  Ian, was away, far away in some personal world..the thought crossed his mind to enquire, but immediately thought better of it, and Wayne - by some fucking miracle of chance, was curled up apparently asleep, which beggared belief owing to the frame of mind he found himself in.  He made a point of motioning to the lumplike figure of Wayne on the couch to Sam, who responded with 'Best all round mate,' punctuated with satisfied smile.  The air was filled now with a steady chilled up tempo soundtrack of dreamy dance music - so fitting it almost seemed apparent Dave had the setlist ready in his mind from the moment the idea of picking up the acid came to fruition.  He himself was taking full advantage of the situation he himself had created; busily hunting for more and more records, on top of those he'd stacked an impressive 30-40 high.  OBviously far too many to cram into the small amount of hours the night had left, but, he imagined presenting the happy problem of selecting which was the perfect for the moments ahead.

[lukas989]

Apparently owing to an unsteadiness in his legs, Dave then joined us in the seating area, a heavy box of records in tow.  'Lengthy number this one' he murmurred, to which he guessed he was referring to the length of the current song.  He sat down with the assistance of a stumble, catching part of Waynes outstretched leg. 'Fuck sake' Wayne exclaimed, in a short snappy manner, bringing forth a acidic tone in Dave I had yet to witness.  'Other people exist Wayne.'  There was no further dialogue.  Dave, for all his calm and placid exterior, held a strange sort of awe within Wayne...for all his nuttiness and completely un-pc methodology, there was a childlike search for permission from Dave he sought...I'd noticed on more than one occasion Wayne gently putting forth a line of questioning seemingly to seek Daves approval for his course of actions.  It was always acknowledged rather that dismissed, as if Dave felt a responsibilty towards him, to guide his misguided methods.  Dave was careful (or at least as far as he thought, witnessing the conversations) to be firm but fair with his responses, as if dealing with a horse who might buck at any second.  'What time is it?' Dave promptly asked, deflecting the negative course the incident had tainted the air with.  Sam obliged with a glance at his watch - three forty five it turned out.  The announcement surprised him...it felt as if several more hours had passed, and he duly stared towards the window, seeking confirmation from the glimpse of sky between the untidily drawn curtains.  The darkness confirmed it he thought, but he stared on anyway, discovering marvellous tricks of the eye within the confines of the curtain pattern.   

[lukas989]

The morphing shapes within the curtain grabbed him by the eyes, jotting in ink the agenda for the next several minutes.  A fuzzy feeling accompanied the wondrous sight, forcing a smile across his face in recognition of the ecstasy.  The comfort of the feeling had him quickly assess the arrival at this moment...through which it occurred to him the joy was a result of it previously being so unexpected.  Although successful at quelling it, there was no doubt whatsoever the feeling of dread pressed against his melancholy, when Wayne was snapping the sharp nasty insults at Brian - surely a pre-cursor to night of hellish inescapable shittiness, that the drugs inside him would assure future visits for years to come.  The musing ushered in a memory of a high school teacher lecturing them about drugs - the reason for which, being a younger pupil - who, after consuming an unknown quantity of mushrooms, was found tracing his hands over the walls of the corridor at four in the morning, completely naked, laughing uncontrollably.  Flashbacks, the teacher had warned - one try and you're haunted forever.  If the young man in question injured himself in his classroom (he was the craft & design teacher - particularly at risk he'd be) as he revisited the dark world of his personal mushroom dwelling, he wouldn't be held responsible.  At the time, it was a struggle not to laugh - both because of the mental image of the boy as his parents had found him and because the teacher delivered the speech with such vigour and seriousness.  Now it was reason to ponder - not worry he hastened to tell himself, for he was having such a wonderful time.  He'd gladly revisit this place.  He'd smiled proudly at the apparent strength in mind he possessed - proven without doubt by his handling of what had preceded.

[lukas989]

'Skin up mate,' came the order from Dave, softened by a knowing smile.  He grabbed the packet of papers in unison with the command, happy in a way to be brought back to liaising with the group - a group that he was comfortable with...he glanced up and registered Ian also, which lessened the comfort level somewhat.  He wasn't quite there yet with Ian.  Acknowledged heroin use hadn't exactly done a great deal for his relaxation around him.  However Ian now seemed to be completely shut off - stuck in a serious thought process that he for certain wasn't going to interrupt.  Dave and Sam were easy peasy in all honesty, but he still felt the pressure of impressing them; proving to them he was to be considered as he did them - somebody who was cool, who they wanted to converse with, share things with.  The pressure of impressing made itself known with pretty much every interaction - whether it be pride in a delivery, embarrassment at a awkward reaction, or even frustration at a missed opportunity.  It often passed through his mind what people thought of him, what they said to each other about him.  Those moments after departing, saying goodbye to a crowd of two or more...were they calling him a prick behind his back, tittering about how he tried too hard, thought he was funnier than he actually was...or preferably that he was dead easy to relate to, open to unfamiliar things, and introduced people to hidden gems in music or film or wonderings even.  The thought had crossed his mind many a time - prompting a self-scathing assessment of being obsessive and egotistical - but often he found, it was much much easier to act in a set way with someone, when the mystery of review was known to him.  He'd had it both sides - liking someone and being confident of reciprocation, when actually they thought he was a 'cunt', and also disliking someone only to discover they were enamoured with him.  True enough he had a lot more experience of the latter...but of course people in general are far more forthcoming with positive remarks than negative.  Which he was more than thankful for - the devastation of learning how wrong he'd been about the person who'd labelled him so vilely, hit him hard...another knock on the trail to oneness.

[lukas989]

The incredibly strong marijuana (at least compared to what he'd spent the best part of three years smoking), worked extremely well in companionship with the now mellowing effects of the acid; tranquility washed through him as he gazed contentedly at anything colourful directly ahead.  He purposely smoked the first quarter of his chubby joint in an efficient manner, keen to address the urgency laced in the request Dave had made to him to assemble.  'Cheers mate,' Dave responded in satisfaction to the passing.  'The guy I get this from grows it in bat shit,' Dave chuckled.  'Something he read,' Dave continued shrugging at his prompting for clarification.  'Alright if I skin up too Dave?'  Sam enquired, seemingly eager to gain the pleasure extracted from the wonder herb.  'Yeah mate, fire away,' replied Dave.  He watched Sam excitedly set about the task, invertly smiling at the mutual love they had for the act of getting stoned.  It had been pretty much all he had done with his spare time since leaving home, spare for the first few weeks where he ran the course of being naive to it, being introduced, experiencing massive whiteys (one in particular brought forth fears of death), starting to smoke normal cigarettes, before moving beyond group sessions and starting to smoke alone playing video games, and watching countless movies.  His first year at college, was a year long venture of wide-eyedness; completely novice at even the base level of social interaction, let alone the consumption of drugs varying along the scale of notoriety.  That famous whitey occurred a mere three weeks into his tenure at college, surrounded by people who did all the talking - confident and opinionated, nonchalantly passing him joints and beckoning him forward to choke back buckets and bongs...come the hour of eleven he was locked in the toilet in the dark roused only by the gentle promptings of 'you alright in there?' from a girl named Lucy, concern he was loath to answer or accept, as every uttering was preceded by poorly masked laughter.  He could imagine her, the other side of the door, staring into the room at the rest of them exchanging guffaws at his plight...but eventually he caved, and unlocked the door, deciding to embrace the mockery.  Annoyingly, she adopted the tone of a concerned mother, soothingly rubbing his arm and offering a glass of water, murmurring 'better? Hmmm?' as he deliberately gulped back the refreshing liquid.  His face burned at the plight, but he reasoned it was something everybody went through, and began to envisage how he'd treat the hapless novice who would go through this very experience whenst he became a veteran of these gatherings.

[lukas989]

Moments like those were irritating in more ways than just the embarassment of them...there was a conflicting desiriousness in there too - the pull of submitting to the nurturing he received from the person who was making him look like a niaive child.  It was a moment shared, that was best suited to a place behind closed doors; where judgement remained dormant.  It was harder than anything - at least in sense of emotional connection - for him to grasp, and when living it, he was almost immediately aware of that it was something he was going to regard as 'a shame it slipped by' once it happened...because he knew he would do nothing with it.  He was just way too aware of non-contributing eyes upon him, looking forward to being elsewhere regaling friends and colleagues with the story of the fool that needed taking care of.  He was therefore keen to engage Lucy in times ahead, and explore the potential she had demonstrated.  She was afraid not in the slightest of judgement or mocking - just saw the requirement to step in and assist when others either ignored or joked, like the samaritan who crossed the street to help.  It was a person he wanted to be - and he recognised the desire to be so, meant it was certainly possible, he just needed muses and experience.  His life had sent in him a direction whereby he was there in that moment, the recipient of kindness he had not oft witnessed - either personally or observedly.  He had always viewed tokers as hipsters up until then - he was in no doubt that many in the room were the very essence of that descriptive - in that he only knew of kids his age reaching out to the new people that suddenly appeared in their lifes offering them an oppurtunity to explore something other than just playing on computers or watching football.  They were all just doing it because it was cool to do so: because people they were in awe of did it, and if there were to be held in the same regard, then they had to too.  But that was the power of that age - money or jobs, or grades or whatever didnt matter.  This era was different - it was the first time he was aware of actual people who did these things in their stride...it was who they were.

[lukas989]

The people surrounding him in the room at this moment were the very definition of this...a lot of people experimented with the extra-curricular activities society threw them a chance to experiment with, be it drugs, drink, partying or whatever...but it was where they were five years after that, told the story - judgements began, from even those who could be easily described as one of them back in the first quarter or so of this time span.  The unwritten rule of 'thats what late-teens/early twenties are for' - getting things out of your system; living life without boundary and taking advantage of the man (your mother and father) not being right there to scald you for every misstep.  But there comes a time where priorities take hold and preparation for building a future take hold....a time where letting go of the life you can never think of ever giving up, and embracing responsibility.  Of course grey areas exist....whether it be the exec who snorts coke on a Friday night, or the organic farmer who still smokes tonnes of weed socially with his or her friends...but essentially the freedom wanes, the need for moving on is apparent.  He sat here, with these people, at the ripe age of 25, standing right at the crossroads of making the choice....stick with them or move on.  The thought provoked analysing each ones prospects - and in spite of the potential front page of the paper full size photo that seemed destined for Waynes future, it was Ians future that made him most uncomfortable, even aside from the heroin consumption.  He recognised within him a different inspiration for being here....he needed it much more than the rest - outside of this room was a tragic existence - a fact he recognised with every uttering over two sentences long that projected from him.  Always bitter and intertwined with shocking eye-opening revelation...it was a rare occurance he was involved in anything whimsical, even rarer when such things where raised by him.  He just sat there mostly, introverted to the extreme, lost in his world of torment.  He glanced at Ian now, allowing several moments to pass....as if Ian was aware of what he was thinking and would suddenly explode.  Maybe not now he thought, but eventually.  That was his future....sporadic explosion.

[lukas989]

In a way it was a good thing, he thought - the existence of an Ian type figure..someone who was there, physically in front of him actively living a life he himself loathed the thought of; even kind of took pity on the fact he had to endure it.  Whether Ian was aware of the haplessness of his apparent situation - like really - was irrelevant really...it was just the idea that there was a life being lead that was inferior to his own.  It was confidence boosting...a reason for hope.  These moments of hope hammered home the realisation that he had people in his life who were good, who were inspirational.  This was far more true of his mother than his father - but 50% of the most influential people in his formative years being 'Good People', was substantially higher than 0%.  And that in itself was again in that weird way a good thing...watching someone (his mother) struggle against the negativity that was flung at her by the very person she had entrusted her happiness with (his father), and had been burned by it.  But she remained defiant in the anguish, moved on and improved things tenfold: now remarried, celebrating anniversaries aplenty, skipping away on regular vacations and chuckling her way through repeated tellings of amusing anecdotes.  His own personal failure to maintain his relationship with his father was obviously far more turbulent than what his mother had to experience...the release of being able to move on was invigorating in her position to say the least - she had the ability to say 'finally thats gone and can be replaced'.  A father isn't nearly as easily replaced as a husband.  Years had passed since last speaking with his father.  He didnt miss it - memories of decent wholesome convos with his dad were hazy and unplentiful to say the least...but it was more than apparent to him that there should be memories there, and without them there was always a yearning for them, regardless of how much time passed.  It was all fuel for he himself eventually becoming a father (he never had any doubt about the eventually part of that sentence), his suffering and incomplete jigsaw would provide obvious parts to slot into picture his son or daughter was to complete.  He knew without being told, that every son or daughter the world over, who grew up with any sort of abuse or inappropriate treatment had exactly the same though, 'No child of mine will go through this shit,' as much as he knew that a large percentage failed miserably at the goal they'd set themselves; eventually reaching that horrible moment, where they'd be sitting alone at the family table, wide-eyedly pondering,'I'm my fucking father/mother,' throat tightening.  It was motivation enough for him not to fail when life threw him the chance to avoid doing so.  He glanced once more at Ian, vivid images of a future form of him desperately making best use of the minimal time he was afforded to see his illegitimate child.  The tragedy of it almost brought forth the formative questions of a sympathetic interview.  He wisely thought better of it however, and asked Dave if he could add to the evenings joint count.