As being a bystander to a guy who was adopted by good friends of mine, I came to witness the strange and efficient care he took in preparation of his morning ‘zol’, as ‘redonkeylous’ and ‘comone’ as that may sound.
Neatly sealed in and air tight baggie with a red sealer, he opens that little fiend and spills its contents on a makeshift cutting board, ever so proudly explaining what the gruesome fine red hair is, (I still haven’t got a clue), and plucking small, crumbling amounts from the main ‘head’, onto the cutting board.. There you have the ingredients, all ready for the main broth, then! A sickly green collection of crushed leaves.
Now, from a small little red box he extracts a fine sheet of white paper, carefully rolling it around his finger to straighten out the folds, which would have been a nasty cut if he acted as amateur, which clearly he was not.. So, next he scoops the ‘contents’ from the cutting board and ever so neatly (with hand and fingers as graceful as that of a professional Le Cordon Bleu graduate), arrange the stuff evenly across the slightly bent paper hold, the concentration almost making his eyes pop.
Then, when I almost lost all interest, though I don’t have any for this intolerable kind of thing, he starts to roll the one side of the film ever so gently from one side to the next, covering the contents, until one small measure of paper remains, which, by this time, he quickly licks and pastes on top of the outer exposed surface, and by design, sticks. Closing one side of the now ready roll of weed, he takes the other side between thumb and pointer, and gently shake the contents back so there is space to place his lips…
By this time, I was exhausted, bored out of my wits and bearing a headache to last me a lifetime of agony. So, as product to his fine and masterful art in rolling his morning break, I came to understand the frustration in knowing a person who smokes weed, and not only for pleasure, but to drive people insane, as well!
On the other hand, I know what it feels like to be a selfish addict on something, like my smokes, even though it’s as bad as smoking dagga. A bad habit gone haywire…
That’s preparation for ya, man! 😀