The Big Ball of Boarding School Blond

[The previous chapters of this long piece of dreck may be found here. I don’t think this will make any sense if you haven’t read the previous parts.]

When the supper concluded, Mole and Badger cleared the table. Sterling helped them out.

“Time for sobremesa,” said the Wizard, “out with the hash, Mx. Fox.”

The fox seemed to smile. She produced a big wad of blond hash from somewhere on her body. Sterling was reminded of the secret pockets that Shash used. Her movements were cool. Sly. She rolled the ball of hash onto the table.

The wizard looked at it with wonder.

“Where did you get such a big ball of hash?” He asked.

The fox just smiled in a way that made it clear she had no intention of answering.

“How do you want to smoke it? Randy asked.

“Let’s smoke it under glass,” the fox replied.

This answer seemed to please all of the animals. Mole was still puttering in the kitchen, but everyone else was now hunched over the table.

“Let me put on some music,” said Badger, “What do you want to listen to?”

“Aretha Franklin,” said the fox.

“Digital or vinyl?” Badger asked.

Before the fox had a chance to answer, Shash answered “vinyl.” The fox nodded her assent.

“I’ll also get a glass,” said Badger. He exited the kitchen in the direction of the technology rooms.

The wizard turned to the fox. He had his meaty arms on the table. He was leaning forward, his beard and gaze pointed in the direction of the ball in front of him.

“Do you mind?” he asked, reaching out for the hash. The fox nodded and he picked it up. After smelling it, he put it up in front of his face and took out a pair of glasses to examine it.

“It really is boarding school blond,” he said.

“The rest of us could smell that as soon as the fox uncorked it,” said Shash. “I don’t understand how you can go through life without a sense of smell.”

“I don’t understand how you can go through life not wiping your ass after you shit,” said the wizard.

Shash shrugged his shoulders. Sterling made note of the smell of the hash. It was earthy and acrid. He tried to pair the scent with the name “boarding school blond hash” in his memory.

Badger returned, the music now filling the kitchen and the rest of the den. He had a large high ball glass in his hand, which he placed on the table with a long sewing needle.

“Why didn’t you get the bell jar?” The fox asked.

Badger slumped slightly. “I don’t think we should. Mole finds the bell jar depressing.”

“But that’s the point,” said the fox. “I’m the pollyanna cowgirl, remember? I can handle the bell jar. Nobody is going to get depressed.”

She looked at mole, then corrected herself by saying, “Nobody is going to get more depressed.”

“Does it matter?” asked the wizard.

“The bell jar holds much more smoke,” said Shash.

“It’s fine,” Mole shouted from the kitchen. “I’m not going to smoke, anyway.”

Badger looked at Mole with a slight frown and held his gaze for a while without speaking. Mole returned his gaze and said, “Really, it’s fine. I wasn’t going to smoke anything tonight. I want to be able to sleep.”

Badger got up and left the room again. In a instant he was back with a small bell jar, which he handed to the fox.

“I can still smell the Afghani black hash on that thing from the last time we did this,” said Shash.

Sterling made a note to pair the smell with the words “Afghani black hash.”

The fox broke off a piece of hash. She rolled it on the table and then skewered it with the needle. Again, from a place undetectable, she produced a lighter.

“Let the cub go first,” she said.

“Sure, but I hope you don’t mind being covered in snot,” said Randy. He smiled his big-toothed rabbit smile, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and laughed his nerdy laugh.

“That’s not nice, Randy,” said Shash.

“I’m just saying,” the rabbit replied. “The first time that kid did a bong hit in my hole, it was a fucking disaster.”

“That wasn’t my first bong hit,” said Sterling.

“First bong hit in the spirit world,” said Randy.

“The cub will do fine,” said the fox. She turned to Sterling.

“Come over next to me, Sterling,” she said, “and tip the bell jar back.”

Sterling did as instructed. When the bell jar was tipped back, the fox held the needle beneath the jar, lit the lighter, and put the flame to the ball of hash. It soon began smoking, curling up to fill the transparent dome. The the jar grew increasingly opaque, until it was completely filled with white smoke.

“Now,” she said, looking intently at the flame before her, “When I take my hands away, you’re going to let the bell jar go flat on the table. Then, I want you to slide it towards you, lower your snout to the base, and then slowly lift it up. If you can’t inhale the whole hit, just put the jar down, exhale and take another hit. OK?”

“Got it,” said Randy. He was reassured by the fox’s calm instructions and her kind, soothing voice. The fire under the jar made him nervous, but her movements exuded competence, and he felt like he was going to be successful.

The fox withdrew her hands and nodded. He slid the bell jar towards him, lowered his snout, tipped the glass and inhaled.

The smoke was cool and pungent. He sucked in the vapor and it felt like he was inhaling a spirit. He breathed deep into his lungs. The wisps of smoke twisted out. The bell jar emptied and as it did it became clear again. He looked up still holding the hit in his lungs. The other animals were staring at him with friendly expectation. He released the hit. A large cloud of thin smoke bellowed out of his mouth and across the table. The wizard waved his hand and the cloud began to take shape. Sterling couldn’t make sense of it at first, but it soon became clear that it was formed in the shape of a human penis.

“A perfect hit!” The wizard yelled. “Look, my patronus is a a penis.”

Everyone laughed.

“Well done, young Sterling,” said Mole from the kitchen, smiling and putting away the last of the dinner plates.

“I’ve put on the kettle for when we eat cake, but I suspect most of you are going to be drinking scotch for the rest of the night.”

“Why did you mention scotch?” Badger yelled. “They were all about to forget!”

“Nobody was going to forget,” said Randy.

Sterling felt a warm, organic flush rush over him. The loamy dryness of the hash smoke seemed to have seeped through his body, making him feel relaxed and happy. The fox continued her ministrations. The bell jar went around the table. Each creature taking much larger hits than Sterling had. With each exhale, the wizard transformed the smoke into increasingly perverse and bizarre formations.

When it was his turn, the wizard, not having a snout, had to lower his head and bushy beard below the edge of the table. He slid the smoke-filled bell jar to the edge and stuck his nose up into it. He took an absolutely enormous hit and held it for a very long time. When it came time to exhale, he bulged his eyes theatrically, then allowed a small amount of smoke to escape. It immediately took the form of the tail of a snake, which seemed to be wiggling from his mouth, as he exhaled further a large dragon, wearing a Coca-Cola baseball cap, emerged from his mouth. It was well formed; wrought with enough detail that it looked both intelligent and charming as it flew once around the table before settling in front of the rabbit. The dragon snapped at Randy, who looked momentarily annoyed, before he waved his hand right through the center of the apparition and dispensing the smoke.

“Get that fucker away from me,” he said.

They did another round of hash. The Badger had begun pouring glasses of scotch. Mole put out a two plates of honey cookies. One in the center of the table and one next to Shash.

The night went on for a while. There was conversation about ships, pigs, politics, and war. Much of the conversation involved names of people and places that Sterling had no knowledge of. Badger, Randy, and the fox seemed to have an endless supply of questions for the Wizard, who answered many, but blew others off by shrugging his shoulders and saying “who knows? who cares?”

Just at the moment that Sterling was getting truly tired and wondering where he might be able to sleep, badger said, “So, are you guys going to play?”

“I’ll play,” said the rabbit.

Badger looked at the fox.

“Of course,” she said.

“Mole,” Badger called, for Mole had disappeared into the recesses of the den, “We’re going to play.”

“Come on down,” yelled Mold. “I have almost everything set up.”

Everyone stood up. They cleared the plates and glasses from the table and began to make their way out of the kitchen.

“Do you play an instrument, Sterling?” Badger asked.

“Yea,” said Sterling, “I play trombone.”

“See, the cub has knowledge,” said Badger to Shash and Randy. “Do you play regularly?”

“I played in my high school jazz band, and I played some Ska in college.”

“Then you can sit in with us,” said Badger.

The animals filed into a room full of amplifiers and instruments. It was a large room, with bare earth walls. The brown fox went straight to the drum kit and sat down. Mole was already working on a bass guitar, and Shash picked up a Telecaster set up next to him. Badger motioned to Sterling to sit near him, as he stood behind a keyboard. In the center of the setup, the Rabbit reached into his shorts and pulled out a small blue case. While the others tuned up and checked their equipment, he loosened the collar of his dress shirt, tightened up his tie, so that the knot was tight but it hung loosely on his chest, re-rolled his sleeves, and then checked his microphone.

He turned to the brown fox, who sat upright and alert at the drums.

“What do you want to play?” He asked.

“Let’s start with an Elmore James number,” said Shash.

“Shake Your Moneymaker?” the Brown Fox asked.

“Sounds good,” said Badger.

The Wizard, who had seated himself as an audience of one in front of the Rabbit clapped his hands loudly.

“Here we fucking go.” He shouted. “Sterling, you are in for a treat.”

“Feel free to pick up that tambourine and join in,” the brown fox said. Then she counted off the start of the song.

From the first note, Sterling was shocked at Shash’s guitar playing, and as soon the rest of the band joined in he was amazed at how tight and practiced they were. It seemed uncanny that they could play so well together from the first note. He was reminded of the singing of the fairies, for this too was magical and strange. Strange and beautiful, and when Randy approached the mike and started singing, “Shake your moneymaker” while dancing to the rhythm behind him, Sterling felt the music rip through him with the same force that the hash smoke had done earlier in the night.

When they stopped, the Wizard clapped and hooted loudly. Sterling said, “That was amazing.” Mole smiled a genuine smile for perhaps the first time of the night.

They played a number of Elmore James songs (Done Somebody Wrong and Rollin’ and Tumblin’), and then played some Chuck Berry (Around and Around and Johnny B. Goode) before indulging Badger by letting him play some Professor Longhair and Huey Smith.

Badger asked Sterling what he could play on the trombone. When Sterling replied, “What is Hip?,” Randy shouted “Tower of Power!”, then went to dig up a trumpet to make a second half of the horn section. They played an enthusiastic rendition. Sterling couldn’t tell how well he was playing, but it felt like he was killing it. He was enjoying playing the trombone more than he had anytime before in his life.

There was more music, more scotch, and more hash throughout the night. Finally Mole put an end to the evening, saying they while they had already ruined tomorrow, there was no reason to ruin the next day. They had to go travel to another dinner, after all, and then make war.

[Next Chapter: The Way of the Gun]