electricsorbet

   Bonzo and a passed-out Jimmy were more or less waiting for me when I finally got the guts to go back to the hotel room. Avery welcome six-pack of beer was on the easy chair and with my rushed 'hi,' I twisted one out of the plastic and went straight for my suitcase as I cracked it open. "Busy man," Bonzo snickered. "What're you looking for?" I was bent over the side of the bed rummaging my suitcase for a doob. "Ganja, baby," I said with dark humour. I tried to sound happy, but I was shittier than I had been before the concert. "Here we go…" I said to myself, finding the small metal tin I kept my weed in. There were four joints insi