Avant garde, no?

So, I haven't updated the internet journal in about a week.

There is a reason for this.

You see, I had actual writing work to do. The sort where you get money in exchange.

Woah-woah-WOAH! Don't get the wrong idea, dudes! It's not that I was so busy working that I couldn't write in this here internet journal... it's just that I kept on putting off the stuff I was supposed to do, and I know that the person it was for reads this thing, and if they read a new entry they would be all, "Well, where the fuck is my shit, you dastardly fiend?"

A cunning ruse, no?

In honour of the Green Party's recently announced drug policies, the following are tales as told to me by my comrade Johnny Leatherjacket.

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The Bud, a True Story by Johnny Leatherjacket:

One time, there was this awesome guy called Johnny Leatherjacket who was rolling up some beautiful spliffs - the sort that would make the Pope burst out in tears, such was their beauty. He was chopping up a mix on his comfortable sofa, as Naomi Robson filled himself and his comrade B-Rad in on the events of the day (and the night).

Soon, they had a fine mix going, but a problem had presented itself! Johnny Leatherjacket's poor bladder was full... he needed to urinate. So he excused himself and went to the little boy's room.

As he was relieving himself, though... TRAGEDY STRUCK. As he looked down, he noticed that there was a very, very fine bud balanced precariously on the teeth of the zip of his stylish leather jacket.

It had to be saved... could he grab it with one hand? No, he would knock it into the vestibule! He would have to use both hands upon the completion of his urine deposit.

He would just have to be very, very still. And then he realised... The post urine shudder would almost surely knock the fine, fine bud out of place. And he was almost finished pissing...

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Just Rude, a True Story by Johnny Leatherjacket:

Once upon a time there was a lady called Brenda.

She was a drug dealer, sure, but she was also a mum. She had two kids.

One day, this bloke came around to score some grass. He was a friend of a friend of Brendas, and his friend had told him it was cool for him to go around.

And it was... Brenda had the green he required, he had the money... No problems.

Til this bloke goes into the toilet and starts smoking ice.

Now, that's just rude.

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Right To Drive, a True Story by Johnny Leatherjacket:

Once upon a time, there was this guy, right? And he took a big old tab of acid, and went for a bit of drive.

So, he's driving down the freeway, right, and he sees this fridge in the middle of the road, and he thinks to himself, "Must be kicking in."

Then he crashes into the fridge.

(This was told to me as a vague anecdote that had been passed along to JL. Nevertheless, the front of Johnny's car was completely smashed in when I left him to his affairs.)

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The Bud Part II, the thrilling conclusion of a True Story by Johnny Leatherjacket:

The last stream of urine was exiting the producer and entering the recepticle - Johnny Leatherjacket had to move fast. He shuddered, dislodging the fine, fine bud...

Gravity kicked in, and it began to fall towards the water.

Utilising Newton's laws of motion, Johnny Leatherjacket brought his right knee up in a rapid motion, knocking the fine, fine bud back up, allowing Johnny Leatherjacket to catch the fine, fine bud out of the air.

He then proceeded to add it to his mix, and he and B-Rad smoked it in a fine, fine joint.

And everyone lived happily ever after (on the dole).

The End.

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