Stoned


They wanna see what happens in Colorado…Image

It’s a case study.

It’s like trying out new drugs on the poor people in third world countries before ‘they’ create a new disease or malady for the civilized people to be scared of.

Humans suck…

Am I the only one who see’s that?

I wonder if there are connoisseurs of marijuana?

I mean real ones….Like the wine snobs….

No offense Conrad and the Wine Wankers.

I love your blog….Even if I’m an alcoholic.

I can look…just not touch.

I’m not a true connoisseur of “Mary-Jane”, but I know, or think I remember, the difference between basic home grown pot and “skunk bud”.

At least from the aroma I should say.

I think the only ‘good’ dope I ever smoked was some “Blue Hawaiian” I got right after I left boot camp in San Diego. I had a long bus ride to southern Georgia and when a guy offered to sale me a little bit o’ pot in a matchbox, I thought what the hell?

I would be riding the bus for at least 6 days and being comatose would make the miles disappear.

After the bus trip started I worked my way to the potty at the rear of the bus and loaded up the little pipe I had also bought from the ‘the dude’.

All the pot dealers were called ‘dude’ or ‘bra’ in Cali back then.

I put the lid down on the toilet to protect myself against splashing blue water. I didn’t know if it was flammable or not.

I sat on the bowl lid, loaded up my pipe bowl with my lid and fired up the pipe bowl and closed an eye lid from the blue smoke.

That was weird….bowl?    Lid?

Old potheads will get it…

I remembered floating off the bus a couple of times along the way to buy provisions like chips, chips, hot dogs, chips and Visine.

I don’t remember much about Arizona except there were a lot of unicorns and fairies there dancing around to some Jethro Tull music.

There were some outlaws on merry-go round horses trying to chase the bus down in New Mexico to a Black Sabbath tune.

I don’t remember much about the following states except blue smoke and a blue water ring on my ass.

When I came back to earth in Georgia, I was sitting in my grandmother’s living room and wondered how I got there. Well, just a little.

I heard someone in the room with me and I looked over and saw my Grandpa rolling up one of his Prince Albert cigarettes.

He lit it and sat back.

After a minute or two he said “This tobacco tastes funny”

I smelled the smoke and thought “Oh shit!”

“PawPaw!? Where’d you get that tobacco?” trying to keep my question innocent sounding.

“I rolled it up out of the old ones in the ashtray” he said.

He took another puff and coughed a little bit.

I secretly took out my little match box of fairy grass and opened it, looking in the empty tray.

My last big pot roach was gone.

 I must have gotten stonededer and laid it down in the ashtray by Pawpaw’s chair and he had thought it was one of his old hand rolled cigarettes!

I looked from the empty box at my dear old pawpaw. He was still smoking it, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, looking at his feet.

It was too late.

There was nothing I could do except go get a glass of ice tea, some chips, a biscuit, a pork chop and a candy bar, and sit back and scientifically observe a 70 year old man about to get fucked up.

“I feel funny” he said.

I just looked at him as I chewed a piece of pork chops and candy bar.

He stood up and turned around in a circle, like he was looking for something.

“Whatcha looking for pawpaw?” I asked

He didn’t say anything for a minute, then said “My feet feel funny”

I took a sip of tea and added more pork chop and a biscuit to my face.

He walked into the kitchen and I heard him go down the hall, pilfer around in his room, come back into the living room and sit back down slowly in his chair.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as I chomped more candy bar.

“I thought I heard someone go in my room” He said, his eyes were bloodshot.

Phase 1: Paranoia (check) I thought.

He didn’t move for 2 hours.

He sat there staring at the streaming ribbons my Granny had tied to the air-conditioner.

Phase 2: Contemplation of the universe (check)

“Is there any biscuit’s left?” he asked me.

“I think so” I replied as I chewed on my pork chop.

He walked into the kitchen. I could hear him banging around in the fridge and cupboard.

He came back into the living room with a plate full of biscuits, some syrup, a pork chop, a glass of tea and a bag of pork skins under his arm.

Phase 3: The Munchies (Engaged)

The humor in this poor old fart having the munchies is that my Pawpaw has no teeth, and if you have ever seen anyone chewing biscuits and eating pork rinds at the same time with no teeth it is a sight to behold.

Add the extra enhancement of his being totally stoned on Hawaiian Ganja at 70 years old and not knowing he’s stoned and him KNOWING that there is something weird going on but has no reference to draw from or like life experience to compare to it…. and being helpless to do anything about it….

It’s freaking hilarious….!

My Granny walked in and looked at her husband.

He just looked up at her and chewed as if though someone else was controlling his jaws and he could do nothing to stop them.

My Granny admonished him in her Granny voice “What are you doing you greedy gus?”

He looked at her still chewing and said “Muba ooba gunda chow chow?”

I lost it….

My Granny turned around and gave me the evil eye.

I stumbled into the kitchen trying to keep my shit together.

It’s easier to do with more food….

I could hear my Granny talking to him and Pawpaw trying to answer.

Finally I saw him come into the kitchen, walk over and put the dish in the trash can and his tea glass in the cabinet.

I didn’t say anything.

My Granny had followed him into the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face.

Pawpaw walked out of the house.

I could see him walking out to his work shed thru the kitchen window.

My granny followed him with her eyes for a moment, then at me.

“What’d you do to him?” She asked.

I looked at her with all of the innocence I had used on her all of my life and protested…

 “I didn’t do nothin’, we were just sitting in there talking!”

She looked at me a second longer “Mm Hmm” she muttered, not believing me.

We saw Pawpaw coming back from the shed. He dropped something on the ground, stopped and picked it up and came up the porch into the house.

He walked into the kitchen holding his hands out to Granny.

“Mama” he said “I think we need to go to the doctor”

I looked at him.

She looked at him.

He looked at us then held up his hands.

One of his hands was missing 3 fingers and the other one was holding the 3 missing fingers.

“Holy shit Pawpaw!” I yelled as I ran to him.

Granny put her hand to her throat and lips, too stunned to say anything.

“How’d that happen Pawpaw?!” I asked as I wrapped his hand with dish towels, the guilt flooding over me.

“I don’t know” he said calmly.

“I was trimming some molding with the mitre saw and just reached out to clean the sawdust off the blade…But I never turned it off first….I could swear I turned it off.”

I had him sit down, his face was getting gray.

I had him put the missing digits in a Ziploc bag and filled it with ice.

Me and Granny loaded him up in the truck and drove very fast to the hospital.

The doctors eventually reattached his fingers and they work just fine now.

I feel bad about this and I have never told anyone.

I never intended for that to happen.

I’ve just been thinking about that Colorado Marijuana law and pot stores lately, debating in my mind and with my own personal experience if it is a good thing or a bad thing.

I mean, I don’t condemn anyone wanting to smoke pot at home and I don’t alienate friends that are lifetime partakers of hemp.

Hell, I use to subscribe to High Times magazine. The only magazine that I actually bought FOR the centerfold pictures!

The point I’m trying to make is that any drug, dope, recreational activity involving dope or working on dope is a stupid thing to do.

Any substance that alters your mind or body is inherently dangerous.

I was stupid.

But…I CAN be taught….

I know it…You know it.

They sell alcohol despite millions of alcoholics and DUI related deaths.

They think they can control it.

They are wrong.

Like addiction, this too will spiral OUT of control.

It’s inevitable.

Now…..they’re selling pot…..from a store.

You never intend for it to harm you or anyone that you love.

But….It will happen.

One way or another…I guarantee it.

I know what dope can do you see……

Do you…?

12 thoughts on “Stoned”

  1. I’ve only ever tried it a few times…..way back…..with differing effects, only one of which could be termed pleasant. I hate being out of control though. I had to have morphine during my last baby birth….an emergency section. I hated it. I talked non-stop and watched as my husband and the nurse smiled at me and i got so annoyed with them. The nurse said she was laughing because I was talking more sense while ‘out of it’ than some people do when they’re fine. I remember I yacked on about rights and responsibilities. Jeez, even when I’m ‘high’ I’m thinking serious shit.
    I know people like the effects of some drugs but I’m afraid my choice is a wee hauf and a ciggy. I can still keep my head then.
    Poor pawpaw. I feel for you and for him.
    One of my husband’s friends baked some ‘cookies’ years ago and his mother sampled them…..by accident. Apparently this very straight-laced lady had a lot to say for herself.
    I don’t know though about not making it available through ‘proper’ sources. At least there would be some safety of quality, I imagine. So many times we hear of drugs that have been tampered with. I wouldn’t advocate their use but if people are going to use it might eliminate some of the criminal culture that goes with. I don’t really know. But an interesting post. Thought-provoking.x

    1. I KNEW it! A freaking Scottish hippy…. I’m almost embarrassed to be an American anymore with all this crap lately. I bet the whole world is laughing their ass off over how stupid we can be!

      1. I was a pretend hippy! Too sensible to be a real one. 😉
        Other places have tried it so you never know. At least, there’s some attempt to regulate what can be a dangerous game. If it’s a trial they’ll surely monitor the success/failure and make sensible judgements. Wtf! Did I just type that? Ok maybe not. I really don’t know. But, I’m not laughing. Something has to happen to make it safer for those who will partake anyway. I’ll watch with interest. Keep us informed. x

  2. I have to gracefully disagree with you here. I want pot to be legalized, but for medical purposes only. I realize others are going to take advantage of this and get it for recreational purposes as well, they do with prescription medication as well. I am one of the people who could use the capsule pot for pain, and I am not able to get it unless it is legal in Nevada. I have attempted to smoke it many times, by a joint or pipe, either way it affected my asthma. I really think it will help my pain, and am not interested in the recreational side effects. Even when I smoked it, I did not have any of the ‘fun’ most people report. I also didn’t get the munchies.

    Your story: first, when your granddad was leaving the house for his shop, I became rather concerned just as a reader; then when you wrote he lost his fingers, I didn’t believe you. I think I might have used duct tape to keep him in the house while he was stoned. Just sayin’. I believe you now, and feel bad for your g-pa. It is a great thing the doctor was able to reattach his fingers.

    Peace & Love

      1. Don’t feel bad…it was a long time ago, nothing you can do about it now. When you were in the moment it was simply something neither you nor your g-ma thought of. I am assuming this is what you feel bad about. Isn’t you who offers we should not focus on the past events of our lives, but look forward. Who would have ever thought anyone would start working with tools while high? I had a b/f who did it all the time. At first I was concerned, even got out the duct tape, but he had been doing it for years, so I didn’t worry about it.
        I really didn’t mean to make you feel bad, hence the adding of the sarcasm of duct tape. I know all ya’ suthurn’ boys carry around rolls of this stuff like ya’ do chew.

        Peace dude

      2. I wub ooo 2. Just don’t want you to feel bad. Seriously, I won’t be all messed up if you take it down. It is your page, and your story.

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