Tales and Stories

Chapter 2 - Smoke and Praises

Baba Gene finished his story and fell silent, stacking his long, clay chillum with the mix of tobacco and charas that he’d made.

“Mmmm,” purred Gypsy Lou, “How about telling me the story again but this time without words?”

“Senorita,” he replied, clasping his pipe with both hands as Kikkef placed a hot coal on the top, “The only thing I come close to kissing these days is my chillum! Bom Bolenad Shumbo Alak!”

“Bismillah!” Kifkef cried.

“Por la puta Maria,” Gypsy Lou muttered. “What curse is upon me to spend the night in a rank hole in the mountains with a celibate and a rider of camels?”

The smoke drove the cold from their lungs and soon the cave echoed with the kind of full-bodied coughing that chillum smokers regard as a sign of sure good health. The smell of bat shit was now replaced by that of fuming cannabis resin and the shadows took on new depth for each of them. The coughing died down and they fell into a stoned introspection where only the fire crackling on its feast of pine and oak had anything to say.

The Kifkef began to speak in a voice so soft and nostalgic that it was a while before the other two became aware that they were listening.

The Story of When People Had Tails