I turned around to check on Rick. He was sitting down again, a forlorn, huddled figure in a forest of swaying blue jeans. He opened his mouth at me.
"Aaaah!"
There appeared to be some feathery material on his tongue. I leaned towards him.
"What is that, man?"
"Aaaaaaaah!"
"What's that in your mouth, man?"
Rick promptly fell onto his back and spouted out a flurry of grass. It landed on his face and neck in damp clumps. Jenny knelt down beside him and began to rub his chest.
"Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!" went Rick.
I elbowed Jim's arm and indicated Rick with a nod.
"He's high as hell," I said.
"Good. He's alright."
"You think he'll be OK?"
"He's got Jenny."
Rick tore off his T-shirt, got on his belly, and began writhing against the ground. At first I thought this was some extreme dance, but his gyrations did not appear to conform to the music. Now he drew his pants down to his knees.
"No, Rick, no, Rick, no!" Jenny shouted.
He spread his arms, gripped tufts of grass in each hand, and began humping furiously. The crowd had opened up a bit to give him space. Some looked on with vague curiosity as his pale ass bobbed in the fading light.
"What are you doing, sweetie? What are you doing, honey?" Jenny asked.
"I wanna... aaahhh!"
"You wanna what? You wanna what?"
"I wanna fuck the Earth! I wanna fuck the Earth!"
Jenny grabbed the waist of Rick's jeans and pulled them up as best she could. After a time he rolled over on his back and lay prone, defeated, one arm extended and one across his chest.
"It's OK baby, it's OK sweetie, I know, I know," said Jenny.
"Do you know!?" he wailed.
"I know. I know."
She lifted his head onto her lap and caressed his brow. His wide eyes appeared to be fixed on something far away.