lördag 2 augusti 2008

In the name of the Bong.

Pruining my way through fields of joy, I stop to enjoy the bushy air. The vines are snared like snakes in the grass and my tool feels big and heavy... As the thick morning mist clears, a friendly face appears before me. A man with great a stature approaches me, strolling across the field. He lends an eye on my work and tells me what to do, he smiles and he speaks: "Can you smoke and pruin? As in smoke mau and pruin?" I eagerly replied: ''Fuck yeah, boss!'' He gave me a pipe made with care, a pinch of weed and a new blade for my sickie. I was fucking flying...

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