James Robert

Jim-Bob ambles unsteadily down the street. He glances disapprovingly at the red bloated sun rising above the horizon, watching him like a giant malevolent eye.

He is on his way back from Pete's house, wearing his normal outfit: a torn pair of jeans, red checked shirt and work boots that were once black, but are now an indeterminate shade of shale. His ensemble is completed by his pride and joy, a leather jacket that he found in a thrift shop one summer. It was pale shade of tan when he found it, but he dyed it black to obscure the rust coloured stains, and he repaired the hole in the back with a plastic leather repair kit he ordered from a late night TV infomercial.

Walking past an open door on main street, the welcoming odour of fresh coffee draws him into an office. He barely glances at the desks populated with bleary-eyed wage slaves as he follows the scent to a back room. He confidently greets an attractive young lady standing by a table full of food, and she hands him a suspicious glance, a shrug and then a cup of coffee and a doughnut. He takes a seat and breathes a sigh of relief as he works his way through his unexpected windfall. Pete had some good hash, and he really did enjoy it, but the side effects are less than pleasant.

He does not have long to wait, as an officious little man wearing a beige suit and a bow tie comes into the waiting area, counts the people sitting there and, with a satisfied nod, ushers everyone into a room filled with computers.

A bemused Jim-Bob watches the video, and then is faced with a blank computer page. He just cannot get the image of the falling granny out of his mind, and the more he thinks of it the funnier it gets. All of a sudden the world lurches, and he finds himself lying on the floor of the room, in tears of laugter, with all the other people in the room staring at him aghast.

Unable to stop laughing, he staggers out the door. Shrugging off the attentions of the officious little man and the attractive girl, he heads out the door and off down the street towards his panel shop, giggling all the way.

That hash was good.

The End

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