Weedifested

Toronto was sweet for two reasons:

• The availability of illicit substances

• The availability of free money

Toronto had a welfare program that allowed street kids to apply for a $230 bum cheque. How this could benefit their city, I don't know - most other provinces have a prerequisite which states that you must applying for housing or have an address before you can apply for welfare. These guys are just handing hundreds of dollars out to street kids to perpetuate the drug trade (though maybe that's what they want. Maybe they want us all to overdose.) I'm willing to bet that maybe $10 of the $230 survival cheque is spent on food per person.

Either way, free money's free money. We made it to the Welfare office at 8:15. They had opened at 8. All the application spots had been filled already.

Wow, Toronto was eager to get its money. We sat outside, mumbling about our misery, soothing our wounds from the night prior. Fernweh had opened back up to Scrib, and I had come to realize that Scrib was, in fact, an excellent guy. I'd known that prior, but I'd recently realized that if I couldn't accept him for getting a bit too drunk sometimes, then I was no kind of friend. Everyone gets wasted. Hopefully he'd be able to keep the aggression toned down, though, because Fernweh didn't deserve to get beaten.

Either way, the three of us sat at a table outside some government office and fantasized about how fantastic it would be to have a bit of weed to kick off our hangover. Dissatisfied with the lack of herbs, I picked  up my guitar and, being far too lazy to tune it, strummed a few dissonant chords. As I did so, I heard something rattling around inside. I turned the guitar upside down and awkwardly fished out what turned out to be a bag of weed.

Surprised, I dropped the weed and it fell to the ground. There it sat, begging us to discredit our existence. It was definitely a gram of weed. We jumped off the chairs and out of our melancholy mood, bailing onto the ground where we stood, hailing the bag of weed like a green, hairy idol.  We rolled our herbs up outside the welfare office and puffed ourselves into an excellent mood.