Boring town boring

I saw the best graffiti the other day. In a young defiant hand 'Girls suck. Tagging Rulz" was written on the bin of a neighbour.
That's probably the greatest way ever to get back at the girl you talked to once who now has a boyfriend. If she ever walks down the street on bin night she's going to regret not being your girlfriend but she'll be too late because tagging is the only mistress you'll ever worship! Ha. Girls! Tagging rulzzzzzz.

One time when I was 16 my friends and I fashioned a three hosed bong out of a four litre plastic bottle and some irigation tubing. We sat cross legged in a circle with my dog on the floor of my parents shed and made our way through a dinner plate of leafy weed. About halfway through we decided it was time to take it to the next level, to get into some harder stuff, something South American. I went inside and returned with a jar of Nescafe instant coffee. It didn't really burn too well and tasted like bitter bitter plastic. It was almost as bad as the time we smoked panadol. Or the time we peed in a bottle and then poured it in a letterbox. Why didn't we just pee in the letter box? It seems so much more perverse decanting from a bottle.

I didn't actually do that though (the bottle pee crime). A kid called "Oliver" did. He was a weird weird kid. He had a permanent bowl cut and always wore a 'parker' and played nothing but early Mac shareware games. He used to go continental delis and buy logs of marzipan and eat it like a chocolate bar. He was a year older than me but hung out with my little brother. They played Magic the Gathering and talked about orks. As he got older he became more perverse in his behaviour. My friend Chris 'Lizard' Howe and I wrote him a fake love letter from the girl down the road and hoped he'd go and see her and get punched by her brother.

The letter probably went like this:

"Dear Oliver,

I can't stop thinking about you. I really love you but haven't been able to tell you to your face. I really, really want to kiss you. And probably do sex to you.

Please eat the chocolate.
Love,
Colleen xoxox"

I attached a chocolate and sprayed the letter with my dad's deodrant so it smelt like a beautiful lady. The chocolate was a super hot warhead that I had covered in chocolate that we melted in the microwave and then wrapped in alfoil so it looked like a real chocolate that wasn't a warhead covered in gooey half seperated chocolate. Hoo boy when he ate that chocolate he was going to get a hot surprise! The problem was that no-one in the whole world, not even marzipan and Dad's nicorette chewing gum chomping Oliver, would eat it. It's dodgy alfoil packaging signaled 'danger' in the same way a number plate that says 'w8n . 4u' shouts 'bog lapping paedophile'.

Oliver didn't eat the chocolate. He didn't go to the girls house either. It was quite a letdown. He had my measure.

He peed into a Sunkist bottle. The pee was orange. Orange!