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So You’ve Decided to Smoke the Devil’s Lettuce
So, you’ve decided to try this *huge air quotes* mary-jo-wanna that all the kids are talking about. (Yes, you know that’s not how it’s pronounced.)
Congratulations! Now you can be like all of your friends. Forget that voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like your mother saying, “If all your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do it, too?” Because the answer is, of course, “Yes. Yes, I would.” That’s you in the distance, late as usual to the bridge jumping.
You’re doing this old school. One friend has supplied you with a cute wooden pipe that looks like some kind of Appalachian wind instrument. Another friend has provided the actual Mary Jane, the reefer, the ganja. So many different names! You dated a guy once who called it “God’s herb,” which was nice. It made marijuana sound like something you’d find in any well-stocked kitchen. Like herbs de Provence, whatever that might be. Presumably herbs from Provence.
But you thought weed was a dry, crumbly leaf? And this looks like… what? A miniature Christmas tree? A piece of shrubbery? Well, they’re the experts.
Please refer to your instructions. You took off your glasses so you’d be prepared to fully succumb to pot’s ethereal charms. But that means you can’t actually read what you scribbled down about packing the pipe. Look, it…
