I don’t think I’ve dedicated a post entirely to one person before. Although Kiwi Tom - my current roommate in Nelson - is intensely annoying I do have a soft-spot for him.
Certainly my time here cannot be accurately reflected without writing about him.
Tom smokes a lot of powerful weed, he smokes it all day every day like you or I might breath air.
He looks a bit like a figure in a Lowry painting or like Jack Skellington from ‘Nightmare Before Christmas’. Skinny, taller than average, squinty eyes and a bumfluff moustache.
He has a constant shit-eating grin plastered on his face and his movements are spasmodic and animated. Like Johnny Depp in Fear and Loathing.
As I’m typing this he has just run into our room, a steptoe-and-son bend in his back, grinning and giggling like someone let loose from an asylum. He sat down on my bed and flashed a bottle of tequila:
“faaack bro, I godduss this for aaferr the pub,.. faaaack we should drink iiit before we go, get grizzled”.
This is a pretty standard interruption.
Anyhow onto some of his recent insights.. I have forgotten most of the “best” ones.
We’re crossing the road back from the liquor store when he stops me stepping out into an empty road. This is strange since we jaywalk all the time.. I ask him what he’s doing because there’s clearly no traffic and totally seriously he just goes:
“Yeah but I don’t want you to get run over, while you’re carrying all that beer”
The following is something he repeats on-loop all day:
“Faaaacck bro, I’m fackin stoned”.
Just get someone to tell you that seven times an hour, it’s not irritating at all.
Tom stands an inch away from the mirror, doing a detailed study of his face. Removes his hat, runs his hands through his hair, laughs like crazy at himself..
“Faaack!”. “Faaacck bro! I’m fackin.. faaaack!”
Every day Tom wakes me up by doing something petulant just to piss me off. This morning he put a magazine on the edge of my bed and jiggled it about. I went back to sleep, so he put it under my pillow and did the same. I swung for him but missed and I managed to nod off again. Within minutes he’d rolled it up and smashed me in the head with it.
Get up you layzee pom fucker!”.
It was 7AM.
Quite often when I’m winding him up all he can muster is
“Fack off y’dick head” / “Y’fackin pom”
That’s pretty much on repeat all day.
Another wake up call, this time involving pulling the sheet I had over my head away from my face and flapping it about repeatedly. There was also an insanely loud verbal attack on the British which I can’t repeat.
It was 6AM.
One evening Tom walks in the room and punches me in the arm. I react without thinking and proper belt-him.
“ow, y’dick head”.
He didn’t really punch me again after that and I felt a bit guilty.
“Faaaack bro, I should fackin’, shit, I’ve got that weed, I wanna, I should roll a fatty…. you think I should fackin roll a fatty, bro?.. bro? I think I’m gonna roll one, have a smoke bro. Faaack, I went to this cafe today and had a coffee. Faack, a cofeee… bro I think I should smoke this pipe, I wanna take a pipe back to New Zealand ay but faaackm are they illegal? Faaack. Imagine.”
Imagine, is one of toms favourites. He preceeds the proposal of some ludicrous situation with the word “imagine” then waits for comment on it.
“Imagine if that chick with the tits came round here bro and I was fackin stoned passed out on the couch with a half semi-on on the couch bro!”
What’s a half semi-on?
“I smoke so much weed man! Imagine if I turned into a big weed plant! People would try to smoke me bro!”
”I bet when we come out of the pub bro, there’s gonna be a METRE of snow on the ground people will be riding round in bobcats and bulldozers, skidoos too. Faack bro, it’s gonna be great, yeah.. you’ll owe me a fackin beer”
“Faaack smoke some hash bro it’s fackin christmas bro!”
“You know the film Lord of the Rings?” “People say I’m like Gollum”
“What time is rock o’clock, ten o’clock? Oi, what time’s rock o’clock ? What’s o’clock ?”
I dunno if his character is truly coming through, but I’m laughing like a drain remembering some of this stuff.