THE WEED WITH ROOTS IN HELL IN PENSACOLA AND PERDIDO KEY

You tourists that like to enjoy cannabis may want to pack your own stash before heading for Pensacola or Perdidio Key.

Why, you ask?

Here's two reasons:

I was hanging out yesterday,  sitting on a busted up park bench on River Road in Perdido Key getting wood slivers jammed in my ass - minding my own business -when this jug blowing, whittling, inbred, mouth breathing, IHOP monkey walks up to me and says "Hey Man, do you know where I can score some weed?"

This is about eleven in the morning and I have no fucking idea what swamp this yahoo crawled out of. He's already shitfaced, no shirt, surfer shorts (like this troll could even swim much less surf), and has some white supremacy tattoos on his blubbery white body. And his face is all busted up from when somebody must have kicked his ass recently.

For all I know this guy is an escapee from some local insane asylum.

"I sure don't," I responded, "I haven't smoked weed in years."

Which was total bullshit. I'm high fucking constantly but I score my cannabis from much higher sources...if you catch my drift. Or am I being obtuse?

I've smoked Colombian Gold, Maui Wowie, Mango, Thai Stick, Panama Red, Acapulco Gold, White Widow, Bruce Banner, OG Kush....this list goes on forever and a majority of it was smoked at the original source where the mother plants grew.

All I smoke now is Black Afghan Hash.  The first time I smoked this magic was in a hut with an Afghan opium grower and his son. The hash was cut in round discs and  was coated with almond butter almost like how Gouda cheese is packaged. 

It gave me this feeling that I was wearing a ball cap that was two sizes too small and gave such a beautiful feeling of calm and crystal clarity. It's only downfall was I had this florescent blue dot directly in the middle of my vision which stayed there the whole night we partied. Like a laser scope.

And this drunk ass redneck wants to know where I can score some weed! In this redneck county!

The two times I smoked weed from a dealer here it was like smoking shit from back in the late 60s that you'd wash down with a Schlitz Malt Liquor. Mexican Brick Weed squeezed into kilos with Sears trash compactors. 

Funky smell, shit taste, and a high that ends with a headache.

I got up and started to walk away. "Sorry, but it's dry around here. COVID-19 pretty much drained the market. Head over to Pensacola Beach but you'll pay tourist prices for ditch weed."

"Fuck you! Fucking smartass!" he shrieked.

I had the urge to slip on my brass knuckles that I always carry and go back and knock everyone of his remaining rotting teeth down his throat but there's no reason. He'll either be dead, in prison, or in that nuthouse in six months.

For some reason that thought filled me with happiness!

Aloha