We all have friends who have other friends we've never met. When you're living with a friend you get to meet a lot more of their friends than usual. Today was the first time this happened with Fabian Wildman.

After Battle Cat had been fed and walked and cleaned up after we had a knock at the door. I snuck upstairs to look out the bedroom window in case it was the TV man but it was some guy with a huge ginger afro. I went downstairs and asked Fabian Wildman if he knew who it was.

Fabian said that it would be Hot Baby Roy.

I opened the door, and indeed he said he was here to smoke crack with Fabian Wildman. I told him to get the fuck in because I didn't want the neighbours hearing.

Once inside he pulls out this piece of pipping and after unscrewing it and putting it back together it's now magically a funky crack pipe.

"I'm Tuesday Kid, by the way," I say to him. "This is my house."
"That's cool hot baby," he says. "Hot Baby Roy gonna get you high."
He's got a bare chest and a big fur coat and flares that make him look like a white Sly Stone.
We go into the livingroom and sit smoking crack while listening to Sly and The Family Stone on Fabian Wildman's vinyl player (at Hot Baby Roy's request).
Hot Baby Roy starts talking about how he wants to get a pet baboon.
Even when I'm high this sounds fucking stupid and I tell him so.
"No hot baby sure Buck Alec used to walk around Sailor Town back in the thirties with his pet lion. If he can have something cool why not Hot Baby Roy?"
I thought this sounded like balls but I googled him later and found out he really did.

Here's a photo of him (but no lion).
I tell him about Battle Cat and how he's going to be a big violent dog someday but for now he's just a puppy.
"Hot Baby Roy don't dig on violence," he says, and he doesn't say anything more until he has to go.
Fabian's kind of funny with me the rest of the day.
"You know I'm happy for you to have people over," I say to him when we're having a smoke later on in the living room. "But I don't want this house turning into a crack den."
"You sound just like The Death Owl," he says resentfully, as he sulks off into the corner and sticks his headphones on.
He's lucky I don't fuck him out on his ear for saying that but I'll let it slide; he's just high.