Telling those stories kicked off my PTSD.
I remember telling a young woman one of them earlier this year, one about saving a kid and I drifted into the full 1,000 yard stare territory. She pulled me back and gave me a compliment. Gave me enough time to change the topic, end the convo. and say nice to see you. Here's a lighter one.
It's 11 pm and I have no rolling papers. Six pipes, but no papers. I'm blazed, it's late, there is a gas station at the end of the street, let's do this.
I get the first block towards the store and reach the stop sign, coming from the left is a police car. We both stop at the sign. They have 4 officers in the car, and I'm driving alone, bloodshot eyes, quite smoked out. I stop waiting for them to go, they hold. I hold. After waiting for 12 seconds I go. Stop! They start moving. Then they stop. I start moving. Then they start moving again, and I stop. Now we're playing pickle at an intersection and I can't tell you how high I am. So I say forget this, back up at the sign and wait.
They go through the stop sign... then I go through the stop sign. Priceless movie shit. We'd both move 1 foot and slam on the breaks. The real question is... who was more stoned?
if their eyes were glazed, it was from the donuts.......