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Ganja Tales by
Craig Pugh
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KING CANNABIS "He had endured the taunts of his friends long enough. Now he was trying to show them who really grew the best marijuana in town." |
. . . . Not that he could blame the mites for their no-count lifestyle. Wasn’t he trying to do the same thing--get high all the time? He squinted at some webbing under his magnifying glass. Mites raced madly along the gossamer trails, wild with abandon, amped-out from the Cannabis Cafe’s all-you-can-eat trichome buffet. One fat brown mite, arms and legs spread like a skydiver impacting the earth, stuck face-down to a trichome, immobile, frozen in time on a sparkling drop of resin. Dry as a husk.
At
least you went down with your boots on, little guy, Mike thought. That’d
be the way to go: face-down in a trichome as big as a boulder. Cause of
death? Acute marijuana intoxication. He chuckled. Mike and the Mites. I
oughta start a band---teach the little bastards to play. . .
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-- from "King Cannabis," by Craig Pugh
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Ganja Warrior
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curious, are the people all real in the book? 'cause I'd like to
meet the guy with the long black hair and the Grateful Dead t-shirt! . . .
He sounds really cool."
-- Julie in Chicago, IL
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