Birthday Lunch

Sam and I spent the day on the couch smoking Shane’s pot, to be truthful. He knew.

Shane went out to lunch with his mum and dad, with Sebastian, crystalled off their faces. Shane’s parents know that Shane (and his friends) take drugs recreationally, not that anyone was owning up to anything, other than a “big” night... the specifics of which went unmentioned.

Shane came down and asked if the pot was all put away, which we confirmed that it was. “My parents are due.” Then he got it out and wide-eyed said we have to smoke a joint in front of my parents. “Will you roll it when we are just about to leave?”

“I don’t want to smoke joints in front of your parents.”

Shane leaves the room, wide-eyed.

Sam and I smoke another joint, playing with the Apple TV we gave Shane for his birthday.

Shane enters the room again. “Are they just left their house about to arrive, or just parked the car and about to knock on the door about to arrive?”

“About to knock on the door, about to arrive.”

Shortly, Shane’s parents arrived. We chat while they wait for Sebastian to arrive.

As soon as he does, Shane announces loudly, “I have to take Sebastian upstairs for a Sudafed.” Nudge. Nudge. Wink. Wink.

Shane says that he just needed a joint before he went out. “You don’t mind mum, do you? I don’t smoke every day any more. Just on special occasions. I’m pretty proud of that.”

His mum laughed. She’s really lovely.

So is Shane’s dad, but he had disappeared into a Banksy book and wasn’t paying complete attention.

Sam looked at me and I looked at Sam and we both inwardly cringed at the weirdness of that moment.

Sam and I drag ourselves off to Grilled in Brunswick Street. We’re starving by the time we get it together and leave the house. We’re claiming weaken energy and lack of function all the way there.

We both complain of hard hills, long and steep on the way back, even Sam, as we drag our sorry arses back up George Street back to the couch. This time we are both keen, it can’t be said it was just me who was being lazy.

We were all talking, when everyone gets back. Shane has bought a hat for him and for his parents. Shane says something about Sebastian, first, has a go, in a wide-eyed and ticking kind of way. 

Sebastian looks at Shane. 

Shane looks slyly at Sebastian.

(I can’t remember what it was now)

We continue talking about the fabulous gift that Sebastian had bought Shane, a saucepan set. You know, Bang And Olufsen of saucepans. Then Sebastian blabs on about how special his saucepans at home were, to which Shane’s mum said he should will them to her. She quickly corrected herself, “Not that I want anything to happen to you.”

“She’s just saying what you’ve heard a lot in your life,” I say.

“What’s that?” asks Sebastian.

“Die bitch.”

“Oh well,” says Sebastian. He holds his hand out, one for each side of the table, where Shane and I are sitting and says,” Have you met my two sisters? The Cunts.”

We all look at him speechless. Sebastian laughs. It was very funny, we were all smashed. Even innocent Sam, he was stoned, his eyes had turned bloodshot.

“Are you surprised I said that in front of your parents?”

“I’m surprised you said that in front of me?” I say.

Shane’s parents leave. Sebastian disappears. Shane heads straight back to bed.

Sam and I went to the supermarket to create a version of our house specialty pasta sauce – tomato and herb spaghetti sauce, with chillies and olives and tuna. We added cherry tomatoes and fresh olives, where the previous spaghetti sauce already had the olives added.

I must cook up some fresh tomato spaghetti sauce from scratch again, but that’s for an afternoon of cooking. This is just supposed to take 30 minutes, for dinner.

“Ready in thirty minutes,” said Sam. He smiled joyously.