In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

She bumped open the door with her hip and they heard her
from the other rooms.
"…who thinks Jimi Hendrix, who drowned in his own vomit, is
God!" Her laughter boomed right through the walls.
"HENDRIX IS GOD!" he shouted back at her into the air. He
got up, went to the stereo.
"Nothing like Voodoo Child to chase away the evil spirits. And
this." He got a long wooden box from on top the stereo and laid it
ceremoniously on the coffee table.
"It is time for the peace pipe." He got out a long black pipe, a
small silver box and an obscene looking pink rubber thing that opened
with a sphincter. He began stuffing hashish paste into the pipe from the
silver box, mixing in a little tobacco from the rubber pouch.
"What is that thing?" Penny asked, pointing to the pink pouch.
"A blague a tabac, a traditional French holder for tobacco,
keeps it moist," he said, and he put it in her hand. It looked and felt like
a miniature douche bag and was stained with brown resin around the
sphincter closure, so she gave it back to him, making a face.
Both Alessandro and Max smirked, and Max lit the pipe. Max
offered it to her. She hesitated then took a tiny puff, but then couldn't
stop coughing like an idiot.
The guys laughed. Alessandro smacked her back, then took a
long puff himself. Max stared at her through his white eye slits. The
stuff was a lot stronger than anything she was used to, not that she was
really that experienced, and hashish was one herb she had never
sampled.
In the negative image on her closed lids, Max's face became a
white mask like the one on his wall. She shut her eyes tighter so
everything would go blue. When she opened them he was still looking
at her through the cloud of blue smoke that streamed out of his mouth
and nostrils. He extended his arm again with the pipe, but she waved it
Alessandro's way and he took it deftly by the stem with three fingers,
the pinky up. She watched the smoke curl away from his mouth as he
leaned back on the futon and closed his eyes, still holding the pipe. He
looked like some decadent fin de siècle esthete in his disheveled black
suit and loosened tie. Then she saw the metal tubing of the futon and
the bicycle and all the computer crap strewn around and the spears and
the mask, and nothing made any sense anymore at all.
"Hey, don't hog it! This stuff costs me." Max grabbed the pipe.
His fingers wrapped around the hot bowl, he screwed up his face and
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