4.6 Rating. Excellent.
The Setup
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon, the day that screams for a light-hearted romp with friends or a lazy Netflix binge. After a luxurious sleep-in until 1 PM, I indulged in the former. The morning routine was flawless—shower, check; Clash of Clans, no raids, check; scrambled eggs and toast, scrumptious. Everything pointed to an epic day ahead.
The Default Move
With nothing else on the agenda, I texted the boys: "What's the move?" Bob replied with a resounding "I dunno, let's check." The dreaded no-plan Saturday was upon us, which only meant one thing—time for the default move: let's just smoke.
Bob's basement was our designated chill zone for reasons too good to ignore:
- Comfy couches locked and loaded with infinite pillows
- A snack cupboard that could rival a 7-Eleven
- Bob's dog, Walter, an absolute legend
The Ascent to Mount Zonked
The Munchie Phenomenon
As we dove deeper into the clouds of our high, the munchies hit—hard. I was so invested in my pizza pops that I became one with them. It was a culinary soul merge, an epic snacking experience. And just when I thought I was the king of the snack world, reality—or rather, my overzealous high—decided to slap me right in the face.
The Creepy Forest Walk
Deciding it would be a great idea to get some fresh air, we ventured outside. What started as a sunny day had morphed into a dark, cold, and mysterious night. Our destination? The creepy forest near Bob's house.
"No worries, I've been here a million times," Bob assured us as we stepped into what looked like a scene from a horror movie. Leaves rustled ominously, shadows danced between the trees, and my high brain was convinced every sound was a potential threat.
The Paranoid Trek
Rain started pouring about five minutes into our walk, turning our casual stroll into a survival scenario. I was too faded to function, and every drop of rain felt like the universe plotting against me. My steps were shaky, my thoughts were racing, and then... the bushes rustled.
"What was that?!" I whispered, half expecting a ghostly apparition to jump out.
"It's just rain, dude, you're baked," Bob replied. But I wasn't convinced. As we walked back, the reality of my paranoia set in—I was in the midst of my scariest high ever.
The Coyote Encounter
As if the universe hadn't messed with me enough, we encountered what looked like a demon coyote pack eyeing us like late-night snacks. At that moment, I saw my life flash before my eyes—I was a headline, "Local Stoner Eaten by Coyotes."
But then, out of nowhere, Bob, fueled by the sheer power of our earlier Zaza session, drop-kicked a coyote, sending them scattering into the night. It was both terrifying and hilarious—definitely not your typical Saturday night.
The Aftermath
We made it back to Bob's, shaken but safe. I collapsed onto the couch, my heart still racing from the adventure. Walter, the dog, came by to check on us, probably wondering why his humans were acting weirder than usual.
After more pizza pops and several deep breaths, I could finally laugh at the ordeal. We had survived our trip to the shadow realm courtesy of our trusty friend, cannabis.
