White Russian
12/7/2019
Ah, the mistakes we make when we're young and foolish. This past summer on a trip to Canada, land of the free, we decided to indulge and picked up two prerolls. The first was smoked in a park and I was a bit nervous, leading to me to do too much too fast. I first felt wonderfully giggly and happy *and should have stopped there* but did not. Five minutes later, I couldn't tell how I was walking (what even are legs?), I was fairly certain an actual demon had taken residency in my belly and I was in terror that anyone else would see me. My wife, indulging, drove me around a while so I'd get a breeze on my face (helped I guess?) then pulled over at a Tim Hortons, whereupon I complained bitterly there were only 10 timbits in a box. We got back to our B&B only to find out my legs no longer worked. Like, actually would not move. She manually tried to move them while I marvelled at the paralysis. "How will you get up the stairs?" she asked. I skewered up my faculties in order to speak human language: "with supreme effort," I said, the demon in my belly channeling Winston Churchill. I did manage to get upstairs and realized I had just fine too much but also wondered a la David after the Dentist if this was real life. All was well the next day. Smoked the 2nd joint much more wisely and enjoyed a much more happy, giggly high minus the panic/delusion/psychotic features. The first episode wasn't FUN but it sure as hell was fascinating and I'll be mining that experience for my writing projects so I gotta give it an A+++ for creative. I'd buy that again in a heartbeat.