There’s nothing like a cold, hard night on the streets of England to restore your ghetto. And if we are talking ghetto, perhaps no one knows that better than Rob Rider Hill.
“We gotta go to the Duke’s Head tonight.” Ben said as he prepared our stash. “Rob, is expecting us.”
“That’s fine.” I said. “But every time we meet up with another male Snowfrican, you guys tend to gang up against me. You also become an unbearable, condescending, patronizing asshole. Ever more so than usual.”
“I’m sorry it seems that way to you,” he said as he wrapped Rob’s souvenir. A statue of a Japanese demon.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about…” I said. But Ben had already done the thing and moved on to a different topic.
“We have to go to the British Library today. We should be able to get our hands on some book’s by John Dee. Oh yeah. John Dee!” Ben’s voice cackled with excitement.
“Yeah! Let’s get our Enochian on!” I said.
Ben’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave me the side eye. As usual, he was all in.
“Jose, I’m a bastion of good, informed decisions. I don’t fuck with Enochian.” Ben said. “And neither should you. We are going to use the knowledge in Dee’s work in our quest to stop the apocalypse.”
“Fine. Whatever. You got the joints?” I said
Ben, laid out seven joints on the table. Each packed with enough green to tranquilize an elephant. Then he hid them away in the inside breast pocket of his winter jacket.
“Let’s go.” Ben said.
After a brief stop at a Turkish restaurant where Ben ate half my falafel without my consent (the Italian dish he ordered, surprisingly, didn’t turn out well) we headed to the British Library. To our delight, the exhibition “Harry Potter, A history of Magick.” Was there waiting for us. And if you knew me and Ben, you know we are all about some Harry Potter.
“God, I hate Harry Potter,” I said. “I don’t care how nice J.K Rowling is.”
“Stop projecting your professional jealousy and let’s go inside.” Ben said.
Once inside the library, you could feel years and years of knowledge come down on you like an invisible hand. Just a couple of more steps, and we would have been bathing in the sweet aura of occult information that we’ve traveled through the frozen tundra of Snowfrica for. This moment, promised to be the accumulated effort of what was a years worth of blood, sweat, and marijuana. Then something happened.
“Holy shit.” Ben said. “They’re patting people down at security.”
“So what?” I said.
“I have seven joints in my jacket.” Ben said. We turned and left out the same we came. The security guards. Two brothers that had already made eye contact with me, also exchanged the patented upward nods that brown people exchange with each other. And so ended our quest to get into the British library. Sure, we could have easily come back on another day without so much weed, but if you knew us, you knew that wasn’t going to happen. We would move on to easier targets.
“Let’s go find Rob,” Ben said.
The Duke’s Head was a bar that lived up to its name. It had a unique charm about it. With its light green walls, wooden stools and tables, pretty candles, strategically placed crotch level fire extinguisher, and less than reasonable prices, it looked like a traditional British Pub, shit out another less traditional British Pub, which shit out a third, even less traditional British Pub.
“Which pile is Duke’s Head?” I heard a voice say from behind us. This was Rob Rider Hill. I didn’t expect him to be psychic, I also didn’t expect him to be this skinny in person.
If you haven’t seen Rob Rider Hill, he’s a strikingly handsome fellow who could probably dive through the center of a honey nut cheerio without breaking it. He’s also intense as fuck.
“Well, you gonna answer my question or not?” Rob said. “I don’t like repeating myself.”
“The third pile,” I said.
“Yeah.” Rob said. “That’s what we were going for.”
“Rob!” Ben said. “So nice to meet you!” To say Ben was enthusiastic about meeting Rob doesn’t exactly tell the entire story. Seeing Ben and Rob together was like seeing two long lost twin brothers finding each other after several years of separation. Did I feel like a 3rd wheel? Dude, for this bromance, I wasn’t even in the same vehicle. These two Snowfricans were made for each other.
It took all of three minutes for them to start talking about the occult. We already had a table full of drinks. Another thing about Rob is that he is pretty much good at everything. Cooking, music, tarot, rolling joints, esoteric shit, but his most endearing quality is the one thing I respect above all other qualities, telling the truth.
“You know Jose, you’re short, bald, and kind of funny looking, but you’ve got a lot of confidence.” Rob said.
“Enough about him,” Ben said. “I got you a little something.”
Ben handed Rob the demon. After a couple of more drinks we stepped outside for our hourly joint which had suddenly become our European tradition. In this state, we could start talking about some real shit.
“You boys ready for the show tomorrow?” Rob said.
“Hell yeah we are.” I said. Ben was not so sure.
“Well, you better be. The venue will be accessible around 7pm. So don’t be late.” Rob said. “We got magicians coming in from everywhere including Lori and Jo Sims. If I were you two, I’d start rehearsing now.”
“Rehearsal?” Ben said as we both looked at each other. “Yeah. We’d better get on that.”
Just one more day to the show, and we weren’t even close to the illuminati…. yet.
Next: the 33rd Parallel live show: Io Pan!