"Will you be long, dear?"

Naǧí drew heavily on a freshly made blunt.
"I'll be as long as it takes," she shouted.

The bud was good. It was not as potent
as the stuff back home in the States,
but good.

Relaxing on her new throne - a filthy
toilet in a London pub, Naǧí laughed softly.

She had arrived in Blighty a few days
before. A week away from life back
home and a chance to see jolly old England.

"I say, miss, I'm busting for a wee."
Reluctantly, throwing the **** in the pan
she exited the cubicle.

Stood outside was an older lady
in a state of panic, "It's my bladder, dear.."

Naǧí stepped aside to let the desperate
woman pass into the smoke-filled chamber.

Back out into the bar, she ordered a double
whiskey and melted into a barstool.

"Alright, duck? Bertha's the name." said a
rather large, pretty chick on the next stool.

"Hi, I'm Naǧí, just over from the States for
a few days."

Bertha grinned, "A Yank eh? Have a nice day,
y'all, hahaha."

"Yes, good one Bertha. Hey, do you know
where I can score any top-grade ****?"

"I'll ask my fella, here he comes."

Working his way through the busy pub,
full of swinging hipsters and cheery older
folk appeared a handsome fellow, smiling
from ear to ear.

Bertha grabbed him, planting a kiss on his
lips,"This is my babe, he's ******* gorgeous
isn't he?"

The man embraced her, squeezing her
ample *** and licking her face. He then
introduced himself to Naǧí, "Hello there,
the name's Echo, how do you do."

Naǧí and Echo shook hands, while Bertha
threw a jealous glance.

"So, babe, Naǧí, here, wants to score some
****. Is your mate Jimmy The Silk, about?"

"Yeah, I think he's at home tonight."

Naǧí pondered for a second, "I could drive us
there? I'm not drunk."

Bertha ummed and arred, then agreed, Echo
did as he was told.


So, into Naǧí's hired car they did go.
Arriving at Jimmy's flat in Bethnal Green,
after a quick stop off at a Tesco superstore to
get some chocolate trifles for Bertha, they
knocked at the door.

The door slowly opened, revealing a very
drunk Jimmy The Silk, wearing a beer-stained
Liverpool FC top and a joint stuck to his
bottom lip.

"Echo! You ******* ******, how ya doing?
Bertha, ya beast! Come here and cuddle
Uncle Jimmy."

Bertha embraced Jimmy, kissing him on both
cheeks whilst giggling like a schoolgirl.

Into the flat, they all went. Eventually, after
falling over many times, Jimmy weighed out a
four-gram bag of ****.

Naǧí automatically skinned up.By now Echo
and Jimmy had put some music on and were
badly dancing to the Saturday Night Fever
soundtrack.

Everyone settled on the sofa and chairs in
Jimmy's living room, ****** to high heaven.

Naǧí smiled, "You Brits know how to have a
good time, I'm having a ball. Hey, Bertha,
where are those trifles? Let's get munching!"

Bertha looked to the floor, Echo embraced her,
"Bertha, beautiful, love of my life, where are
the chocolate trifles?"

Jimmy piped up, "Yea, c'mon girl, don't be greedy,
well, at least not tonight, eh?
Hahaha, no offence doll."

Bertha, flicked her hair back, "Erm, I..er..ate
them while you guys were dancing and Naǧí
was making a bifta."

The room fell silent.

Then all at once, they burst out laughing,

Echo hugged her tightly,
"Aww, you naughty dumpling! Jimmy,order a
Chinese takeaway, mate."

So, they all had a takeaway together and more
spliffs and more drinks.

Naǧí drove away the next morning, dropping
Bertha and Echo off at home, after thanking
Jimmy for his hospitality. She left them her
number, promising to let the three amigos
stay anytime they visit the States.

The following week, back home, Naǧí sparked
up a blunt, selected a song, and pressed play:
'Night fever, night fever, we know how to do it...'



                                              THE END