Hemp’s “wacky weed” so by now she was dying to try it. Well, we all got royally stoned. With the sun shining hotly overhead we ate chicken, ribs, salads, beans and corn, with ice-cold watermelon wedges for dessert; we laughed and joked and talked and drank beer and ate more food till we couldn’t hold any more and the various bands played on. Then Hemp lit up another joint and we all passed it around and as we looked up into the sky we realized that the sun was getting lower and lower and it was still Hemp’s party and none of us had really, formally, acknowledged it yet. We had all been too busy having a good time. So I leaned over to Moose who was sitting beside me and whispered something in his ear. He nodded his head and said loudly, “Hey, Hemp, this is your party, man. How about a speech or something?” “Sure,” agreed Hemp right away. “If that’s what you guys want.” We all clapped and whistled and cheered him on. He received our clamor with a dignified expression and went over to the center of the patio by the grill in which still-glowing coals were rapidly cooling. He held up his hands for silence like a professional speaker and then began. “Okay, guys (and girls),” he nodded to the women. “I know we’re all pretty stoned, drunk and stuffed with food. I know I am. But since you asked for a speech,” he glanced at Moose who whistled at him encouragingly, “I guess it’s time, really past time, I made one. First of all, I’d like to say the usual cliches about thanks for the great party, thanks for believing in me when I was in trouble, hell, thanks for getting me out of trouble. You saved my life and I know I’ll never, ever be able to pay back a debt like that.” Cookie, Moose and I began to make self-deprecating ~
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