- Szechuan Nights -

I’m a good student. 

After class I squeeze 2 drinks from my friend’s pay checks and beat them down 

in a pub side game of UNO. 

Eloise makes the daily offer, “Wanna come and smoke with me?” accompanied by a Grinch like smirk. 

2 days ago I vowed to quit smoking weed, 2 drinks in I have fully committed 

to smoking weed. 

Eloise is a practical Stoner. 

She keeps her weed in a sparkly pencil case that I suspect she bought from Smiggle 

and her less than well-kept bong in a Woolworth’s plastic bag. 

I’ve never been into getting high, talking about Scooby Doo 

or even minimal interaction with stoners for that matter but I appreciate her ambition.

Eloise is a forgetful person. 

Her ambition amounts to forgetting the cone piece after showing off her 2 sizes; 

Large and 'I yearn for early onset emphysema'. 

Luckily enough, I always carry a fork with me when I pack fridge dried Chinese takeaway from the night before. 

I tap into my own deeply supressed stoner genius and propose that we use the Szechuan greased fork 

as our cone piece. 


Eloise is impressed by my invention and I feel very much gratified. 

6 forks full and 3 coughing fits later we decide that 2 garlic breads and a coke is a must this season. 

The season ending, once our high does. 

We hurriedly check the whereabouts of the nearest Domino’s Pizza. 

Google Maps advises us to stick to the park’s winding pathways in order to reach our destination. 

Eloise offended by the app, doesn’t reply in-kind. 

“It’s a park, I can walk anywhere I damn want!!!” 

We stick to the path.

Bondi is an interesting place. 

It’s 10:43 on a Monday night. 

Eloise finishes the last 2 slices of garlic bread just as we reach her car. 

We hear the patter of paw on pavement. 

In my muddy state of comedown, I stall to process the apparition as something other than an intoxicated trick of the eye. 

A Corgi, stout and determined running up the middle of the road directly towards us.

 The pup passes by at an incredible speed. 

Eloise and I look at each other with incredible confusion. 

A boy, light footed and lanky is in pursuit just 20 metres behind. 

The breathless twink approaches us and asks if we’ve seen the owner. 

We hadn't.

Isaac was a good student. 

He’s also a good person and took it upon himself to wrangle the small dog. 

It takes us a few seconds for recognition to jolt into action under the glaring streetlights. 

We embrace as any two men sharing the trauma of enduring HSC Legal Studies together would. 

I like to think I’m a good person. 

Between talking to old people at bus stops and giving directions to German backpackers,

 this seems like the perfect opportunity to truly cement my self-belief 

that I am a pillar of the community. 

Isaac and I channel every bad action movie in our collective cognitive libraries; 

we look into each other’s eyes, fiery and glowing with testosterone, 

nod and begin to sprint up the road after the public threat.

I thought I was a fit person. 

Isaac kept a solid pace as we crossed suburbs in pursuit of the round hound. 

It’s puffy tail and short legs taunting us as it rounded corners a hundred metres ahead of us. 

We kept pace, 

well Isaac did at least until he noticed me struggling for breath. 

We concluded our pursuit at the intersection.

 It was clear that the dog had important places to be and we were nothing but another school zone speed limit to ignore.  

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