I read an article in an underground newspaper,
The Blunt Perspective,
that said how cannabis can
expand a person’s mind.
It’s not like I have a little brain,
but I figured expanding my thinking
would expand my writing;
and I’ll do almost anything
to write a cool story.
and I’ll do almost anything
to write a cool story.
So I ventured to the seedy side of town,
shortly after the sun set down,
and started to shop around.
Unfortunately, or fortunately,
but played out unfortunately in this situation,
I have an angelic face.
Which doesn’t sound bad,
except the pushers,
ahem, I mean, the agricultural entrepreneurs
automatically thought I was an undercover cop.
Which I think is silly.
Why would anyone want to be an undercover cop?
Wouldn’t sleeping on your badge hurt!
Might even puncture an artery.
Or worse!
Roll over the wrong way;
and you could wake up singing soprano.
Roll over the wrong way;
and you could wake up singing soprano.
That would also ruin the sheets.
Even if Tide® does remove blood stains.
To prove I wasn’t a police officer;
and as a way of bonding
with the underbelly of the crime world,
and as a way of bonding
with the underbelly of the crime world,
I broke the law in front of them.
Twice!
Twice!
Oh yeah,
I’m such a rebel,
I’m such a rebel,
I jaywalked across the street and back again.
All the while singing,
Born to Be Wild.
Apparently, that wasn’t enough to convince them,
so I had to strip down to my Spider-Man Underoos®
to prove I wasn’t wearing a wire.
Finally, they agreed to sell me
some horticultural substances.
A little bag cost me four hundred dollars.
But I knew that the experience
of expanding my consciousness
would make me more money than that
by inspiring me to write a cool story.
I’m quite polite, so I said thanks.
Even though I felt sure he was ripping me off.
I should’ve Googled street prices
before I went shopping.
But I usually buy everything at Walmart anyway,
so I never have to compare prices;
I always know I’m getting a great deal.
The drug lord nodded and said,
“Uh-huh. Yeah, right. And remember kid,
if you get stopped by the cops,
just tell ‘em it’s for medicinal purposes.
And if they don’t buy that,
say it’s Columbian oregano.”
Columbian oregano?
Ha! That’s a good one.
I chuckled and dashed home to try out
my new “nutritional supplements”,
a.k.a. “brain food”,
a.k.a. “comedy writer’s fuel”.
I didn’t have any rolling papers.
And I don’t smoke anyway.
But I remember hearing about folks
who lace their brownies with pot.
So I made a batch of brownies;
and using angel hair pasta noodles
and a suture needle,
I laced the oregano into the brownies.
Laced?
More like knitted.
And, as always,
I spread peanut butter on the brownies too.
I ate the whole batch!
Must be the result of getting those munchies
I’ve heard so much about.
So I figured out how to get high
and treat the munchies at the same time.
What a marvelous way to multi-task!
Within a few minutes,
I felt woozy.
As the room spun like a freaky kaleidoscope,
I felt like I was about to hit an iceberg and capsize.
Had I made a titanic mistake?
But then,
instead of sinking,
I started to fly super high.
Immediately,
I called my ex-girlfriend and proposed.
Wow!
This is strong stuff.
(I’d never call her if I wasn’t flying so high.)
This is strong stuff.
(I’d never call her if I wasn’t flying so high.)
Just before I jumped out the kitchen window,
I got the idea that backpacking with Bigfoot
would be funny.
Especially in the Bahamas!
(See my previous post:
Yes! It worked! My mind expanded!
I had to widen my cap by two notches.
I had to widen my cap by two notches.
And I began to write a series of crazy adventures.
Oddly, mostly involving Bigfoot.
(See my previous posts: Canoeing with Sharks,
And, to be true to the stoner frame of mind,
I blared the radio station that plays classic rock.
I typed story after story.
Until suddenly, …
a loud forceful knocking pounded on my door.
Oh no! Gulp!
Was Bigfoot expecting royalties
for my using his name and likeness in my stories?
After crawling to the door,
After crawling to the door,
to keep from falling over
as the room spun with increasing speed,
I grabbed the door knob,
pulled myself up,
and opened the door.
Oh good,
it wasn’t Bigfoot after all.
it wasn’t Bigfoot after all.
It was the cops,
answering neighborhood complaints.
Not about the volume of the music, but the genre.
Apparently, my neighbors don’t enjoy
Apparently, my neighbors don’t enjoy
psychedelic music.
Spoil sports.
Please Note:
This is a work of humor/parody/fiction. The author does not condone, encourage, nor promote the taking of illegal substances. Protect your brain. So you can read and buy all my books!
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Woody Allen:
Ya’ know I took a puff of the wrong cigarette
at a fraternity dance once;
and the cops had to get me, ya’ know.
I broke two teeth trying to give a hickey
to the Statue of Liberty.
Richard Pryor:
I’m not addicted to cocaine.
I just like the way it smells.
Dean Burkey:
Legalize medical marijuana?
And then what?
Convince your doctor you need it?
“Doctor, you’ve got to help me.
I’ve overwhelmed by too much reality.”
“Listen Doc, somehow I lost my appetite.
You need to prescribe me a nickel bag
and a couple roach clips.”
“Hey dude, I have to write another rock song,
so I need you to refill my prescription.”
Ray Divine:
They’ll make marijuana illegal;
and yet legalize all those prescription drugs
you see advertised on TV?
How can that be?
Have you heard some of their side effects?
Heart attack, death, thoughts of suicide.
Pot never causes anything that bad.
How can you compare
heart attacks, deaths, and thoughts of suicide
with a mellow, happy attitude
and a hearty case of the munchies?
Mitch Hedberg:
When we were on acid,
we would go into the woods,
because there was less chance
that you would run into an authority figure.
But we ran into a bear.
My friend Duane was there,
raising his right hand,
swearing to help prevent forest fires.
He told me, “Mitchell,
Smokey is way more intense in person!”
EvilTwinStore
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