The Stoner
The sun hung low over he horizon, pushing the dark night sky back towards the western edge of the world. In the twilight gloom of the early dawn a silhouette could be seen on a beach. Tall, lanky and manky, a man dressed in black was moving around erratically with jerking movements, He appeared to bend forwards in one corner of a tumble-down spread of rocks and boulders, fidget with something, and then straighten up and limp over to another corner. And back again. Two figures approached from out of the semi-darkness, long fishing rods in their hands. They had spent an unhealthy amount of time standing on top of a set of high rocks on the edge of the sea, with waves rolling in from the open ocean and crashing heavily into the base of the rocks. From that position they had devoted themselves to feeding the various fish in the water below them a rich and varied diet of hooks, sinkers, swivels, and lengths of mono-filament fishing line, interspers...