Kafe "Casablanca"

stanje
Zatvorena za pisanje odgovora.
Verbal_Kint:
Uh, sunce ti, spremao sam večeru i toliko zaljutio da sam izgubio svest na 3-4 sekunde.

Moraću ovo ponovo da probam. :lol:
Kliknite za proširenje...

SWS-DC001.jpg
 
http://www.hairypothead.net/chapter_one.html
An old man stood in the night time shadows on the end of Mainstream Drive. He was tall and thin, with long silver hair and an even longer beard, which was tucked under a belt whose buckle was a large, silver, seven-pointed leaf.

His blazing red eyes were hidden behind half-moon mirrored spectacles, which sat on the tip of a long, crooked nose. He wore a heavy purple robe with blue trim, pants with yellow and red stripes, and a long undercoat interwoven with intricate patterns of the same leaf as that on his belt. The leaf appeared again on the large buckles which adorned his high-heeled boots. All of his clothes were made of 100% pure hemp.

The man's name was Alwaze Duinthadope. He reeked of marijuana so strongly that police dogs were howling thirty blocks downwind.

Duinthadope didn't seem to realize that he was in a neighbourhood where everything from his scent to his buckles was unwelcome. He glanced up at the thin sliver of moon, then looked impatiently at his wristwatch, which had five hands and the number 4 at all twelve points on the dial.

"Almost 4:20 in Moscow..." he muttered to himself. "I hope he gets here soon."

Duinthadope reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a long, thick joint of pungent marijuana, lighting it and slipping it between his lips in one smooth motion. He took a long, strong drag, drawing the aromatic smoke deeply into his powerful lungs, then expelling it through his nose in a thick, steady stream.

A woman emerged from the shadows across the street, and walked briskly in Duinthadope's direction. She had a severe look, and wore heavy square glasses with markings on them like the spots on a cat. She, too, was wearing a thick hempen cloak, of emerald green. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun, inside of which was hidden a carefully wrapped stash of potent THC-infused toffees.

When she was next to him, Duintahdope smiled grimly and passed her the joint. The woman looked distinctly ruffled, but her mood seemed to mellow as she took a slightly lighter hit than Duinthadope, then cupped the joint in both her hands and inhaled the smoke coming from the blazing cherry.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGanjagal." said Duinthadope quietly, his mirrored glasses reflecting the spot of orange glowing in the darkness.

McGanjagal tilted her head back and blew a series of smoke rings in the air, before handing Duinthadope back the bomber. Any passer-by would have smelled their smoke, but seen only the red cherry moving in the dark shadows between suburban houses.

"You know what they're saying?" McGanjagal asked quietly, then continued without waiting for a reply. "They're saying that Whats-his-face himself led the raid on the Pothead's growhouse. They say that he killed the Potheads, that Mary-Jane and Jay Pothead are dead!"

Duinthadope took the joint away from his mouth, and bowed his head sadly. Professor McGanjagal gasped.

"Mary-Jane and Jay... I can't believe it... I don't want to believe it... Oh, Alwaze..."
Kliknite za proširenje...
:mrgreen:
 
Dragi forumaši, pred nama je Nova godina, novi broj koji odbrojava dužinu našeg druženja.
Čestitam vam na snazi da uvek istrajete, da idete dalje, da se borite.
Želim vam mir, sreću, slatkoću življenja, šarenilo trenutaka sa onima koje volite, u onome u čemu uživate.
Gorčine tek toliko da osetite pravu slast lepog kada se pojavi. :)

Svako dobro, i družićemo se lepo i ove godine.
Vaša Moonlight.
 
stanje
Zatvorena za pisanje odgovora.

Back
Top