Aleck offered considerately, "I'll do it, man." He took the packet of papers to begin anew. He hunched to work intently, raptly.

Pelle said, "All right, man. Three hundred pesetas, man."

Maureen leaned forward in smiles. "What do you do?"

Pelle answered promptly. "I am a medical student in Copenhagen. We have a vacation after examinations, that is why I am here."

Maureen blinked appreciatively, "But do all medical students take drugs and speak English so very well?"

Pelle beamed. "Thank-you. I have studied languages. I speak eight Not speak Latin and Ancient Greek, of course. But there is German , and French, and a little Spanish. Danish, of course, and my mother was Swedish. And English, or course."

Phil seized Maureen as he said proudly, "Languages, shit. English is enough for me. I say, "Let the fuckers learn my language, and they always do." Phil spread his free arm expansively.

Aleck put a double-length cigarette with cardboard filter in the outstretched hand, and began immediately to make another.

"Well, well." Phil brought his hand to his face. "Matches?" Absent-mindedly Aleck tossed the box of matches. Opening it, Phil scattered the red-tipped matches on the ground. Phil's first match broke in half against the striking board; he lit the second. Maureen and Pelle watched with interest.

"That is a very big joint!"

Phil sipped smoke. "Always make them like this. In England. Aleck's a machine. One after another. All night. Aleck!" Phil had jerked his hand away from his face to offer the cigarette to Aleck. Aleck sucked briefly and deeply, while one hand spun a fresh cigarette between finger and thumb. He held the lit one out to Maureen, who reached from Phil's one armed embrace for it, but could not reach far enough. Phil's free hand was pattering on his knee. Maureen nudged Phil, caught his eyes, and nodded towards the proffered cigarette beyond her outstretched fingertips. She wanted him to take it for her. Phil follower her nod towards Aleck, then Aleck's spinning hand. You've made a new one already!" Aleck thrust the burning cigarette before Phil's face. Phil's hand grabbed it and put it in his mouth. As he inhaled his neck turned back from Aleck to the more comfortable face-forward position. He faced Pelle. Maureen took the cigarette form his mouth for herself. Phil's lips felt at the space where the cigarette had been, and then began to speak: "Vacation? It that what you said? Holiday, Did you pinch DMT in this stuff, Aleck? Aren't we, Maureen, on a holiday? Your lovely auntie--her lovely auntie sent her the money to fly back to America because we were all busted at Aleck's flat. No problem, first offense all round, small fine for each of us. Have a holiday before court. Put a lot of the bread in a big hash deal. Have you ever had Lebanese shit?" Pelle started to answer. Phil whirled to Aleck. "You did, didn't you, man? Just so I know what's in it, and we've got to watch this counter-reaction with the demerol, because no more thorazine, right?."

Aleck handed Phil the second cigarette, lit., His voice was calm. "It's safe, remember, that bird in Istanbul did it."

As he inhaled Phil again faced Pelle, whom Maureen had given her cigarette. Phil resumed: "Istanbul, busted there, too. Aleck and me, Thrown in prison. We got high on newsprint, smoking fucking newsprint. Fantastic ink. Printers must be addicted. I turned into a lion for there weeks. They let us both out. Same thing in Spain. They'll throw you in prison, no questions, years and years, awful."

Pelle interjected, "This shit is very strong."

Aleck told him, "It's the DMT, man. You can sacrifice a few brain cells." Pelle became uneasy. He handed the cigarette to Aleck.