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girl real good and then ask her to clean up his place. Sort of as compensation. Yeah right, as if that’s ever going to happen, but that’s the way Kerbs’ mind operated. He lived in a world of his own, like an ant on a sugar high inside a sugar pot.
    Kerbs sat opposite me on the bed, his back against the wall. He took another sip of his beer. I told him what Sky had said. But I kept my mouth shut about my dream. He didn’t like that sort of thing. Neither did I. I hated it when people told me about their dreams. As if it had some or other deeper meaning.
    I don’t believe in dreams.
    But why did this one concern me so much?
    ‘If he wants to stay, let him. We’ll manage fine without him. Check this out, I got the money.’ He removed a roll of money from his pocket.
    ‘How much?’
    ‘Seven hundred bucks.’
    ‘Is that enough?’
    ‘Who knows? By the way, I hope you don’t mind. I gave your ID number to theguys at the pawn shop.’
    It was like a brick hitting you in the nuts. ‘My what?!’
    ‘You’re in this thing too, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but … Shit, Kerbs, how could you do that? And how do you know my ID number?’
    ‘You shouldn’t leave your stuff lying around.’
    ‘If I get into shit, Kerbs, I’ll rat you out.’
    ‘Come on, buddy, that’s not the way things work. Guys like us – we cover for each other.’ He fell back on the bed again. He had a dodgy grin on his pie-hole. He knew just which buttons to push. He pressed the beer bottle against his lips, but didn’t drink. ‘I pawned that CD I stole as well. Bad vibes.’
    ‘How did you get past security?’
    ‘Ways and means, brother.’

TRACK 08
Make like a tree and leave
    ‘Are you in or out?’ Kerbs asked Friday morning.
    Sky seemed uncomfortable.
    ‘In or out?’ Kerbs repeated.
    ‘I’m just saying: we should be careful.’
    ‘Careful about what, Sky?’ I could see Kerbs was irritated. He jammed more stuff into the boot of the car.
    ‘I don’t know! Okay?’
    ‘Well I know. You should learn to relaxmore. You take life far too seriously. This weekend we’re going to party like the fucking world is going to end.’
    Sky shrugged his shoulders.
    ‘So, are you gonna chicken out, Sky?’
    Sky stared at me. I’d made my decision. I was going. It was the weekend. I wasn’t going to sit at home and watch TV just because Sky saw some blood.
    ‘I’m coming with.’
    ‘What are we waiting for then?’
    We had to take my dad’s car. Kerbs’ car was broken. He explained precisely what the problem was, but what did I care. That old piece of metal with the flames on the sides was in any case only a coffin with flash rims and Firestone tyres.
    Kerbs decided that we should blow the dust of my dad’s speakers. He turned the volume way up. System of a Down’s‘Steal This Album.’ (And he had obliged as requested.)
    I leaned forward and set it softer. ‘I can’t hear myself think.’
    ‘You shouldn’t think. You should feel.’ He turned it up again.
    Sky laid stretched out on backseat. How he could sleep through all the noise, only he knew. He said he needed to get his beauty sleep for the night.
    Kerbs lit a joint. He took a deep puff and holding it in, he passed the joint on to me. The sweet aroma oozed through my body. How they could ban this stuff was beyond me. I mean, why should all the good stuff be banned? Should life remain shitty? Are we meant to be confronted with Riaan Cruywagen’s wig every second night while he tells us how corrupt the world is? Why don’t they ban the boring stuff?
    Politicians, for example. That boring lot of assholes that only steel our money andstill want us to vote for them every few years. But I won’t vote for somebody just because he stuck his fucking mug shot onto every streetlight in our neighbourhood. That, by the way, is also the only time you see them in the neighbourhood, up on the lampposts during elections. Man, those fuckers can’t even see to it that those bloody posters