Get yourself into a comfortable position…

I was on the verge of passing out.  Each step was draining me of the already tiny reserves of energy which remained.  I could barely see, and sweat poured down my face in torrents; each rivulet winding its way inward, after passing my mouth, towards my cleft chin, which due to its unusual shape caused the formation of a delta at its tip.  When the delta could no longer contain these tributaries, they burst forth into the brackish waters of my neck and chest and beyond into the open sea.

I had suffered much on this quest and the constant boom of thunder and lightning sound-tracked my exhausted stumbling, only contributing to the nagging tension and unease i was feeling as i quickly came to the realisation that i might not make it to my destination alive.

I had been menaced by beasts, emitting low growls and brushing up against my body.  I had frozen where i stood, sensing any sudden movement might provoke an attack, barely daring to breathe.

After what seemed an eternity, i stopped to rest but sitting down on the spot only exacerbated the situation.  It was no good, they were closing in; i had to keep moving.

I looked around for a weapon to beat them back, if it came to that, but found nothing; i was going to have to survive this on wits alone…

I was leaning slumped against someone who was also slumped against me.  This someone was female and we had had spent the past hour staring at a mountain of tobacco which stared accusingly back at us.

I had come to the conclusion sometime previously, that i couldn’t see anything; nothing at all.  Well, this wasn’t strictly true; i could see some things but they were all moving around and wouldn’t stay still, and anyway, they didn’t make any sense when they did come temporarily into view, so i just gave up and stopped trying; this is, i had learned, the only way forward in situations such as these.

“Listen” i had begun “can you see well enough to roll a spliff, i can’t see a fucking thing?”.

“Yeah, i reckon” she had replied but didn’t strike me as at all convinced by her own statement.

“Right then, i’ve got all the tackle we’re gonna need, you just get yourself into a comfortable position and i’ll just feed the stuff to you when you need it, ok?”

“Ok” she agreed and then sat there motionless.

“So,what are you doing now then?” i enquired,

“Just getting it together to get into my comfortable position”, at which point she, in one flowing movement, stuck out her left elbow with her hand pointing back at her body and then slid slowly down the wall away from me until she came to rest on it, her upper body being now nicely positioned.  The final action saw her extending her legs to full length and then tucking them back up towards her chest with one leg resting upon the other.

“Right then, give me the skins and sit in front of me so no one sees” she announced with ill-deserved confidence.

She then spent the next hour attempting to glue three cigarette papers together in a simple formation but without success.  On several occasions she concluded that she had succeeded and asked me to give her a cigarette to put into the flawed vessel.  Still being in my state of blindness and rapidly losing my ability to speak, i eagerly handed her anything she required.  She then went slowly and methodically through a full pack, ripping them up and dumping them onto the ever growing tobacco mountain about a foot away from the little wet ball of Rizla’s she was trying to ‘fill’.

Which is how we came to be slumped against each other staring at a mountain of tobacco.

It was then that i remembered that i didn’t have any weed anyway.  I’d smoked the last of it on the bus on the way into town with the lads who, in case you were wondering, were haphazardly dotted around the club in various states of undress and possessing similarly dubious motor skills.

Having no cannabis whilst peaking on heroic quantities of ecstasy and amphetamines is utterly unacceptable, and we both knew it.

I had seen my friend Dave working at the cloakroom counter on the way in and reasoned that since he was a mad pot-head, he’d probably have some pot, which was when i made the rather odd and extremely foolish decision to…

stand up and go and find him.

Warning to all students and newcomers to the recreational use of Ampthetamines and MDMA powder:

Whilst peaking on the aforementioned psychedelic cocktail, your head WILL at some point advise you to go on some seemingly essential mission within the club environment.


Whatever your sad, image filled, swampy little mind has convinced you of, is utter nonsense and IS NOT IMPORTANT OR REAL, so stay seated.

Only seasoned fuck-ups like me have permission to wander about untethered, all saucer-eyed and sweating; like a rapist waiting in a bush.

Only seasoned fuck-ups like me have permission to pinball their way down a dance floor, somehow managing to bump into every single dancer therein contained.


only seasoned fuck-ups like me, having pursued their goal with dogged determination, and relentless jaw movement will come upon the door leading out into the courtyard and be rendered completely helpless because where the two handles should be, there are only two odd looking flat metal rectangles at chest height.


only seasoned fuck-ups like me, having spent a whole hour attempting to solve this mind-bending conundrum, have permission to sit on the floor at the base of the door and begin to cry.

Which is where we re-join our intrepid hero on his quest, sobbing and scratching around for some form of weapon…

“Are you ok mate?” a voice asked from above.

“No not really” i croaked “i’m trying to get to the cloakroom in the courtyard but this door doesn’t have any handles on it and i can’t get out”.

It was then that this wonderful man, a door-man in fact, released me from this hellish place and offered me the keys to the kingdom,

and with one finger and five simple words, spoken with just a hint of lethargy,

the doorway to the unknown opened and victory was mine,

“you push, you fucking tit!”

Oh…and Dave had finished his shift in the cloakroom early…and fucked off.


One Response to “Get yourself into a comfortable position…”

  1. I use the word ‘heroic’ when referring to quantities of research chemicals to this day.

    ‘So Dr Nerdowell was it entirely necessary to use such a heroic concentration of yohimbine in your experiments?’

    I may start using the phrase ‘near legendary’ instead.

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