Smoking Mates

Hando and Boz were sitting outside on two folding lawn chairs, Hando smoking a cigarette and Boz smoking something a little more lethal and illegal.

“So why did you quit?" Hando asked Boz - who had been telling him about working with a building contractor in Sydney.

“Because I fell off the damn building and broke my back. You ever had a broke back?”

“Nah, nothing broken.”

“You don’t want one let me tell you, the pain don’t ever go away.”

“Is that why you stay drunk all the time?”

Boz turned in his direction, “I ain’t drunk all the time, I don’t drink on Saturday’s…so there.”

Hando stifled a grin.

“So you say. You got the upstairs all done up eh? Got the shower workin’ and all?”

“Yeah pretty much, I can live there for awhile.”

“Well good, I don’t mind the company,” he looked around at the open garage door, “maybe I’ll take the trash out or something.”

“Yeah why don’t you, I can smell it upstairs.”

Boz waved his joint around, “maybe I like it like that, keeps the riff raff out.I hope you don’t turn out to be riff raff; thought we might be mates.”

It had been a long time since Hando had a mate, not since he left Melbourne; Boz was all right, “Yeah we might be…if you take the trash out.”

Boz threw his head back and laughed.