Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Marijuana Man

I'm walking down the sidewalks at the University of North Texas when a male student I've never met yells at me, "Hey, Marijuana Man!"

First I chuckle, then I cringe. This is my school as well as my part-time place of employment with the Office of Disability Accomodation, where I attend classes and take notes for students with disabilities. I'm certainly not ashamed of who I am, but I don't typically wear my marijuana on my sleeve (excluding the occassional hemp shirt). Besides, the real Marijuana Man is a living comic-book legend who goes by the name of Ronnie Smith (aka Reverend Roland A. Duby).

I wave and smile at the student.

He walks over to me. "Are you the guy who wrote that Prescription Pot book?"

I nod. "Yeah, that's me."

"I sure hate to ask you this, but do you happen to know where I can get any?"

I sigh, thinking... Not again. This crap happens all the time. If I had a dollar for every time somebody asked me for a joint, I'd be wealthier than the gestapo publishers at New Horizon Press. This guy is either foolish, desparate, or an undercover law enforcement official.

I smile. There is a way out. I look at the student and ask, "Haven't you heard? There's a drug war going on. That means anybody can get drugs, even a twelve year-old. In fact, you might have better luck if you ask a twelve year-old."

I walk away quicker than a Texas fly can dart into his gaping mouth.


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