Okay, so it’s not a QP of KB, it’s an HP of near-KB quality stuff, and only 4 g of real KB. Four pipes and a waterboy named Bob. Bob’s even got an ice holder in his neck. Yet…
The guy whose it is is out of town, so I can’t touch it. This entire friggin room smells like fresh cut hay… oy vey! I’m goin crazy.
Want… to smoke… fifty bowls…
Good shit good shit can’t touch it. Damn! Story of my life, me and women. Well hell. I guess I can live till tomorrow when he gets back.
The whole house smells like sweet, sticky, fresh cut hay. Argh! There’s 1/2 oz on the table and another 6 ozs in the dresser. It pervades every pore of my body. But Bob is in Pat’s room, the magical pipe is with Keay, the laced pipe is in Pat’s room, and the pretty blue one is at Aarons. Ingest, I’d say, but no. I must maintain. He’ll be home tonite. Sweet happy land!
Depending on how well you know the guy, you could probably get away with smoking a spliff. After all, he has an HP
Damn! I wish I had a HP of pretendica I have to stop smoking for a week or two to try and pass a UA for a job, it’s gonna be hell. If you get to hit some, lemme know how it is
Well… I survived until he got back. It was worth it. He was like “Dude, I wish you wouldn’t break into my room when I’ve got an HP here…” and I was like “Dude, how else am I gonna use the computer?” a round of “Dude…” ensued, but he got me with a real good “Dude!” and I had to admit I was wrong. We smoked a bowl of KB. Bob’s a two footer with the ice neck thing. Boyo! I milked that mutha till the chamber was solid and “Schwooop!” then about five minutes later did it again. I was baked. Time for nappy-bye!
Crappy sleep for bein so far gone, though. I woulda expected better.