"Sleep is for the weak, and weak is for the sleep," I told him when he put forth that preposterous suggestions that I should sleep. After all, I'd been awake for a week, now. The worst of it had to be over, right?
At that moment, the top of the curved back of a great, gray wolf flashed by the window before me, each gray hair swaying under the whipping wind created by its movement. At this I stumbled backwards away from the bed, pointing and jabbering, "The gray wolf! The gray wolf will get me!"
He looked at me, the all-American boy with blonde hair, blue eyes, strong chin, and strong body, and he laughed, the bloodshot glaze on his eyes from the pot, with the dilation from the tweik fading fast, and laughed deeply. "Get up, you dumbass," he replied. "I need you to load this bowl."
Laughing myself as I got to the feet, I held the tube of glass and its sphere over the paper, while the other hand fished inside the little plastic baggy, decorated with the deep blue silhouettes of naked wom