The Habit

By

E. Z. Token

In a green tropical shire somewhere in South Jamaica, ‘Yeah man, dat’s right’, I came across a dude, with big harry feet, dat was lookin’ for a mountain where he could throw a ring. I said, “Hey man, I can take you dere.” So I give him my pipe and he started throwin’ rings alright.

He said, “I can see the mountain and it is made of chocolate.”

I said, “Yeah man, aint dat cool?”

We was havin’ a good time when all of a sudden a dude puffs outa dat smoke. He was seven foot tall and had long white dread locks. His beard looked like Medusas’ doo. I knew I had some good stuff, but this was ridiculous. He looks at me, den at my pipe.

He said, “what are you doin’?”

I said, “We mindin’ our own business. Why don’t ya do da same?” He didn’t say nothin’,

den all the sudden grabbed da pipe from me and started token. His eyes rolled back in his head and we had an earthquake. I tell you man, when dat dude got stoned he made the mountains shake. When he stopped coughin’ and started to laugh, he handed me back my pipe.

He turned to the little dude and said, “Your journey is over. Go home and have a brownie.”

And just like dat he was gone. I turned to the little dude and said, “What was dat?”

He said, “Don’t know don’t care! I got the munchies.”

I said, “I’m with ya man.”

1