Somebody in my building is smoking weed tonight. Normally I don’t like the smell of it, but they must spent a few extra bucks to buy the good stuff this time. I would wager it’s the guy right below me and his smokin’ buddy Sydney. These two aren’t the brightest bulbs in the room, something anyone could determine after riding the elevator with them a couple of times. I’d say they smoke up maybe six days a week, but I’m not always here to “witness” it second hand. Something I never thought of until last week when they were burning some awful smelling stink weed, they never blare their music or TV. It’s always quiet, like they’re practicing tying knots or something.
Mathew Walker and a Turk’s Head