Another of my other faults is a lack of perception into some people which, when mixed with unerring trust, is, as my wife says, my deadly combination! Remember the little counselor with a tick, the same one who gave me the teddy-bear card. Well, compared to others I had met he seemed rather friendly and normal. Had to start somewhere.
He invited me out to his trailer where I meet his companion and partner. Not to worry, gay guys aren’t into bad things. So I listened, was given my first pipe, a little stained with use, and little bud to light up with. It stunk, I coughed but endured. Obviously, my not being a smoker, a new approach to me was called for.
However, their forth-coming-ness was waning. Obviously, an indication of my need to dispense a little cash. That done, they lightened up and lighted-up, this time showing me an eye-dropper bottle of “tincture” (bud dissolved in gin) which was guaranteed to work as well, but slower than smoking. Also on the table but not yet headed my way was a little marijuana-laden, green “butter” for use in home cooking , and the warned-about “cookie,” a little brown innocuous-looking, round thing.
Then, they started showing indications of great concern (you know the thoughtful-and-concerned look), offered their enduring friendship — to come home with me and teach me the ropes of my new-found hobby with them as my supplier. !Horror Struck! My wife was at the time away with our daughter, but can you imagine the disaster were she to come home and find me smoking with two pot-heads, and our nice house smelling like Willie-the-Skunk? “No can do, my wife doesn’t approve of smoking,” said I in a diplomatic effort.
A compromise and withdrawal was needed. Realizing my desire to stay married and understanding that I could grow my own without help at home, I began my retreat, “you know I am an organic gardener, and I really want to grow my own. Would you mind helping me find a few plants?”
As I reached for my wallet, they just happened to remember a guy who just might have some plants, gave me his name and number, agreed to give an introduction. The supplies of a little bud, a little butter, and some old tincture moved a little closer my way as did my $100 in cash towards them. Deal done. They had my cash. I had a lead to plants, and my marriage still intact.
Not to go away empty handed, I was offered, and did consume 1/8 th of a cookie. By the time I got home, five minutes up the road, I was stoned — didn’t dare drive for an entire day. So much for cookies and trust.