There's been a bit of influx of hippies aboard the boat, lately.  This new arrival is no exception -- he's dressed in a big fluffy white coat and a purple shirt, both of them unbuttoned, and holey jeans.  He's a little dazed looking, smiling at nothing in particular -- this is due to the joint in his hand, at the moment.  He blinks a little when he ( Read more... )

Claude is listening to Sheila. Or, at least, he thinks he is. She's speaking, he hears the words, he responds - but whether or not he's really listening is questionable. He watches her move around, rallying the troops as only she can, falling to her knees and slapping the ground. Stepping up beside her, Claude falls, too. Watching Sheila, he ( Read more... )

He just wandered on the deck. He did manage to get himself stoned out again - there was a bit of meth, some booze, and he topped it off with a bazooka-sized joint.

His must have been a sunrise. Or perhaps a sunset, he's not sure.  All he knows is that he's tripping on the myriad colors. All he knows is that he's not thinking about his friend's ( Read more... )

( cut for spoilers... )