Green is good. In fact, green is great especially on a cool spring night. Luckily me and the bois were ready for such a night. As we begin to take out the green we see some unexpected colors. I’m all for the good old red and blue, but not when there lights are catching you like a deer in headlights. But that’s how we looked like.
At this point, my mind split. Are these fuckers on the hunt and saw us young kids as prey to feed some state ordained quota? Do cops have quotas in New Jersey? Or are they just curiously driving around and their lights happened to turn on? I knew that probably wasn’t it, but hey everyone thinks of the last minute prison break right before the execution.
As the feelings of guilt and anxiety cluttered my head, I turned to my already stoned friends; one in particular looked like he had just seen his dead grandmother rise straight from the kitchen of hell. Of course the cops smelled what’s cooking and decided to have a word with him first.
As the cop started badgering him on what we were doing, he couldn’t look him in the eye nor could he answer straight. Their arose the heightened sense of fear, paralyzed with the thought of a ruined future, the cops decided to take pity on this lifeless soul and went turned their attention to the man with the wheel.
“It’s the same guys” mumbled the driver under his dank breath.
When the cops recognized the driver, they boasted with confidence that there had to be weed In the car. As I looked out the window and sighed, I realized how fucked we actually are, as I had little to no control over what’s going to happen next. Cops are usually cool at first grab, but being caught a second time by same cops, seemed like we were destined to be fucked. Of course my mind was also focused on why someone would bring us to smoke in the same spot that cops on patrol had caught you before. But then again that’s the paradox of stoner culture, it’s not that they don’t see the risk; it’s that the syph is worth the risk.
The cops asked us for weed, like any cop does, and our dank driver gives him the dime we had. He of course asks of us if that’s all we had and we of course reply yes. The cops then asked us to leave the car and put our hands on our hood in prep for a complete search. While propped on the hood, fear begin to arise, I had no idea if dank driver was hiding anything else in the car. I felt horrible but I couldn’t trust this “kind natured” stoner. As the cops searched me and grabbed my associates’ balls, they said that if they found anything else in the car we would all be going down. At this point I accepted my fate. However my once speechless friend started to hyperventilate.
We try to calm him down tell him to relax, but the fear had too much of a physical effect on him. As I marveled on how powerful the human psyche is, the cops had completed their search. To my surprise they found nothing, dropped the weed in our car and went on their ways.
Yes, they left the weed in the car. At this point, as me and my friends were perplexed by the whole situation, dank driver tells us they left the weed the last time.
As relief went through my body and my body started to relax I noticed my dank driver running up to his neighbors to rant. As this little stoner screamed about how they were being dicks and fucking with him because he was brown, I couldn’t help but see a disrespectful little shit who the cops were nice enough to let go twice and even let him keep his weed, but he was just mad they interrupted the syph. He, thought that the cops didn’t see the green as a crime and because they knew we weren’t doing anything wrong they wouldn’t arrest us. If they viewed the green as a crime we would have had one way ride to the courthouse, because they did anything they were dicks. I loved hearing this unfamiliar paradigm and was ready to start a syph again. What a joke.