White Flag
Bluelighter
Herb - Quite Experienced - Viva La Revolution!
I was pinned down by some guy in an alley and while he held me to the ground, he told me this story:
<b>Viva La Revolution!</b>
I'm no good at remembering exact times, so deal with what I can do.
<i>You see, it was the marijuana that enabled it all. The dream of an empire...</i>
We sat down on the back porch some time in the mid-afternoon. Really, a beautiful day. I pulled the baggie which held a little less than an eighth of skunk from my pocket and packed a bowl (roughly half of 1g) and handed it to my partner. He smiled at the thought of greenies and proceeded to take a hit, hig first of the day. I, on the other hand, was coming down from a prolonged dream-like state which involved myself, a winamp plug-in, and detailed visions of interplanar travel. As I was going over these events, attempting in vain to puzzle them out, the pipe appeared in front of me, accompanied by a thick, grey and white cloud of smoke. I put the pipe into my mouth and lit the scorched nugget of joy, inhaling as much as my lungs could hold and passed it on, feeling quite lifted already. It went on like this for about 25 minutes or so, about three bowls. As I was putting the pipe away, the talk of Revolution rose into the smoky air. My friend had just returned from Bolivia and relayed his observations. Observations of immeasurable oppertunity.
From here on in, the plan basically made itself, opening door after door and deftly smashing every contradiction and consequence in sight. Very elaborate. We would travel to Colombia by air and begin a small drug trade there until we were satisfied with our financial standings, estimated at one week from arrival. We would then take a bus to Bolivia and while passing through South America, we would single-handedly introduce the guerillas to acid and trading a portion for cocaine. We would establish a small base of operations at his sister's home which is located in a <i>peaceful</i> city in Bolivia. We would cause a major uprising, introducing the local private school kids to acid and other drugs and taking them away from alcohol. We would continue raking in profits until we were satisfied with our social standings, estimated at three months after arrival in Bolivia. We would then secure our money in a Swiss bank account and get rid of everything and travel back to the States, Seattle, to be exact. We would begin eliminating drug dealers in Seattle and begin a lockdown on that business. While this is happening, we would travel to Aspen and visit the legendary journalist and adventurer, Hunter S. Thompson, and offer to pay him to rise in a political office in Seattle so that the Revolution would be aided. From that point, we would slowly begin eating up the world in the name of the Movement.
Viva La Revolution!
(Crazy, the type of shit you laugh about when you're blazed. Hehehe.)
I was pinned down by some guy in an alley and while he held me to the ground, he told me this story:
<b>Viva La Revolution!</b>
I'm no good at remembering exact times, so deal with what I can do.
<i>You see, it was the marijuana that enabled it all. The dream of an empire...</i>
We sat down on the back porch some time in the mid-afternoon. Really, a beautiful day. I pulled the baggie which held a little less than an eighth of skunk from my pocket and packed a bowl (roughly half of 1g) and handed it to my partner. He smiled at the thought of greenies and proceeded to take a hit, hig first of the day. I, on the other hand, was coming down from a prolonged dream-like state which involved myself, a winamp plug-in, and detailed visions of interplanar travel. As I was going over these events, attempting in vain to puzzle them out, the pipe appeared in front of me, accompanied by a thick, grey and white cloud of smoke. I put the pipe into my mouth and lit the scorched nugget of joy, inhaling as much as my lungs could hold and passed it on, feeling quite lifted already. It went on like this for about 25 minutes or so, about three bowls. As I was putting the pipe away, the talk of Revolution rose into the smoky air. My friend had just returned from Bolivia and relayed his observations. Observations of immeasurable oppertunity.
From here on in, the plan basically made itself, opening door after door and deftly smashing every contradiction and consequence in sight. Very elaborate. We would travel to Colombia by air and begin a small drug trade there until we were satisfied with our financial standings, estimated at one week from arrival. We would then take a bus to Bolivia and while passing through South America, we would single-handedly introduce the guerillas to acid and trading a portion for cocaine. We would establish a small base of operations at his sister's home which is located in a <i>peaceful</i> city in Bolivia. We would cause a major uprising, introducing the local private school kids to acid and other drugs and taking them away from alcohol. We would continue raking in profits until we were satisfied with our social standings, estimated at three months after arrival in Bolivia. We would then secure our money in a Swiss bank account and get rid of everything and travel back to the States, Seattle, to be exact. We would begin eliminating drug dealers in Seattle and begin a lockdown on that business. While this is happening, we would travel to Aspen and visit the legendary journalist and adventurer, Hunter S. Thompson, and offer to pay him to rise in a political office in Seattle so that the Revolution would be aided. From that point, we would slowly begin eating up the world in the name of the Movement.
Viva La Revolution!
(Crazy, the type of shit you laugh about when you're blazed. Hehehe.)
