Gym Morrison pulled at the tip.
Of the rolled up package between his lips.
Or was it between his fingers?
Or both?
He couldn’t exactly decide on the final outcome at this point.
In fact, he couldn’t decide on any point.
Or points.
When he smoked joints.
Many points made a line.
A fine line.
So fine that even her features looked coarse.
Her eyeliner that lined her eyes.
Or maybe it was a line of eyeliner that lined her eyes.
Her eyes.
Schemeswari’s eyes.
The eyes of Schemeswari.
As seductive as the moonlit water that lapped the sands at Bheemeswari.
Only this was a total Bangkokup.
The Thai kebab was fine for the Asians
Gym liked Pattar Chicken with Gopi’s Manchurian.
The Thai moon was obscured by clouds.
Clouds of smoke.
Propaganja smoke.
Proper.
Schemeswari winked at him through the plumes.
Dumbbells went off in Gym’s head
As she flashed her pearly whites.
And some other kind.
As her panties slid off her bottom in his mind
She reached out for his Sheekhroll.
The last bites.
Be a giver.
Or take her.
Either way, as cool as Shekhar.
My Culla Shaker.
Shake my son’s maker.
Schemeswari burped below as she cursed him – Ipottan!
Oh Shit, came too soon.
Bloody Quick Gun Korangan!
**********
