canadian weed enthusiast – purple kush

Canadian weed enthusiast

 

Purple kush

 

Fear and loathing in Niagara falls

—-

Hey readers. Thc overdose here again. I’m so glad to be submitting an article for Canadian whisky enthusiast again, even though this guy reimburses me in absolutely no way. [RE – editor’s note: delete in final draft] so here’s my second article. Enjoy!

—-

It’s about 11:00pm on my birthday and I’m watching an angry gorilla throw flaming hotdogs past my face in very close quarters. The gorilla is hostile because he just lit his ‘where’s the beef’ apron on fire and he’s throwing incendiary tube steaks in my general direction because everything five feet in front of him is on fire; the hotdogs, the table the hotdogs are cooking on, the gorilla himself.

me, I’m drinking too much warm beer with a naked man in a public setting, and i swear I just saw the singer from guns ‘n roses, axl rose pass me on a skateboard in a small, stinky, crowded bar, which is a poor choice of transit for axl, considering the sheer amount of broken glass on the floor.

Once the gorilla cleans up his flaming catastrophe of freshly extinguished table, lighter fluid bottles and hotdogs, an air raid siren rings, piercing my ears and red strobe lights flash, making every second in my life a breathing flipbook. a smoke machine puffs away, filling my lungs with what will surely be diagnosed as a new hybrid of emphysema/lymphoma. This is when four drug addicts wearing women’s clothing take the stage and don their implements of sonic chaos. The band known as the legendary klopeks have arrived.

This may be a good point to inform you, im also tripping balls on six hits of yellow stickman blotter acid.

The tiny bar is lit with black lights on green trim and red borders creating a visual neon shitstorm. The unnatural light scheme stains the whites of people’s eyes an eerie burst of toxic ooze.

The music they play rumbles my organs it’s played so loud in this tiny venue. Without a verbal introduction to their first song, the band bursts into their first volley of musical assault with songs titled ‘ric flair’, ‘die, you fucker, die’, ‘I fucked your mom’ and ‘kill the french’. The songs are loud and fast and every song ends with the singer(dressed in a schoolgirl’s blouse, kilt and pigtails) shouting ‘FUCK YOU!!!’ at the audience.

Speaking of the audience, the crowd is filled with recent mental asylum escapees, people dressed as the pink panther, jesus Christ and a naked man, who just happens to be my friend, named Ralph. I don’t mind that he’s naked, partly because of all the lsd I’ve ingested and the fact that he has a below average sized penis, which is little threat to my manhood. Every time I turn to speak to my naked friend, I notice he is engaged in an interesting conversation with himself. I don’t interrupt on a count of it being poor manners.

I’m really enjoying the music, and I don’t mind the smell of stale beer and piss. The stage show is fantastic too; after a couple songs, the singer demands that somebody flashes their tits, which they are surprisingly eager to do. Occasionally, somebody will throw the singer through a table, piledrive the singer face first into a pile of dirty thumb tacks or smash a shit streaked toilet on the stage. On this special night, the bands manager is enjoying his birthday celebrations and is blowing out some candles. Sure, the candles are attached to thirty hypodermic needles that are injected into an entourage member’s forearms, which nobody seems too bothered by.

Every once in a while, an audience member will walk on stage with a metal garbage can and smash the singer over the forehead, cutting his face open and knocking him to the ground, if only for a minute. Scrambling to gain equilibrium, the singers skirt is up over his head and his testicles are dangling out of either side of his thong, while he tries to stand up so he can sing the next song. The music is the catchiest skate punk I’ve ever heard, completely devoid of any two or three part harmonies that will forever plague skate punk in the near future, or be the basis of every band signed to the unlistenable, regrettable, pathetic ‘epitaph’ label, which is a blatant cash grab, enjoying the knock on effect of labeling music under a marketable ‘punk rock’ moniker.

The unfortunate part of the night is that my best friend is paranoid that he has been overdosed on lsd and he thinks he is having a heart attack. We must bend to his will as he is a hulk of a man who has fists the size of anvils, capable of shattering skulls with one simple connection. This man is unpredictable when sober, nevermind with a twisted mindset and if he decides to become hostile, some people will be beaten to death before we will be able to subdue him, if we can at all. He’s not having a heart attack, but he’s most definitely feeling the effect of being overdosed on lsd, because I’m the one that deliberately fed him five hits. He tells me we have to leave or he will die.

We continue the night by walking home, staring at brightly coloured lights and carelessly strolling in and out of oncoming traffic. The walk is only a 20 minute distance on foot. In just over 2 hours, we walk home safely. Next to a crusty looking crack motel, I notice a soda machine selling bottles of coke for a dollar. Too good a deal to pass up, I stop and insert a loonie into the coinslot and press the button for my beverage. The old beat up machine jangles and rattles and after an entire minute of theatrics, the machine finally places a soda in my reach. I rush back to the house with my friends to drink my cola.

The tall white house is where we have made our pilgrimage to. I did not find the sanctuary I hoped to find in this house.

A whole four minutes into entering the house and here I am, screaming batshit madness, feverishly swinging a hockey stick around the room with one arm and crashing through lamps with a tennis racquet in the other. Cornered, it would seem, I am fending off my companions like a lion tamer with a whip. One person lay unconscious on the hardwood floor, with a dented lawn chair beside him; his clothes stained with blood and spilled coca-cola. He looks to be suffering a fresh head wound from an accurately delivered arching swing from the aluminum lawn chair.

Reaching into my pocket, fishing around for something sharp, I pull out a crudely rolled joint of some purple kush weed I had stashed away. This distracts me from my current goals of killing my drinking partners with lawn furniture and sports equipment as I egress. i back my way out into the back yard, where I strip myself naked and light my clothes on fire. I use my burning shirt to light my joint and I sit cross legged, while I enjoy, puffing away this pleasant joint.

I wake up in the early afternoon, crusted with lawn clippings and ashes, while my friends neighbor is screaming at my nude indecency. I ask him what year it is as I sneak back into the house where I pilfer some clothes I find strewn about the house. Dressed in tight fitting pants and a woman’s shirt that exposes my stomach, I call a cab and head home. I sleep for half a day.

 

Baggie:

Plastic.

Thc: 22%

Nose:

Pungent, earthy, sweet. Smells like heaven .

Palate:

Creamy pine and earth, coupled with a hint of grapes and citrus peel.

Overall effect:

When you slice a bagel with a sharp knife, it should simply fall right through the crumb, leaving the cut sides smooth as silk, with two glass-flat surfaces. Toast them to a cozy golden brown and smear nutella on them while still warm. Take the two halves and place them back together, face to face and watch the nutella heat up and start to drizzle out the sides as you wipe it up and suck your fingers clean.

Sheets of warmth and sleep overcome your eyes as they close slightly and an innocent smile creeps on your face. If it were raining outside, you wouldn’t even feel it on your skin, which feels like a butterfly’s wing. your knees soften and melt. You should find a place to sit down as your body loses all its feeling and your thoughts are simply dreams.

Please note:

This is a cross of the land race hindu kush strain crossed with purple afghani, leading to a super hybrid of intense indica.

Glimmering with trichromes, this produces tight, hard nuggets with a dark green, grey/blue hue. Purple color patches typically come from being grown in a colder environment.

Powerfull, potent and completely indica, this strain combats insomnia, stress and pain. Recommended for nighttime use.