Drug Of Choice
2004-10-08 - 5:50 p.m.
before/after
strangely
non-functional guestbook
Drug Of Choice
We were sitting around,
getting really stoned,
on a fine, sunny, early spring day,
when there was a knock on the door.
I opened it, as dank smoke wafted dreamily
out the cottage door, and through bleary eyes,
I saw two freshly scrubbed Christian faces.
"Russel here wants to talk to you about the LOR-D"
the fat one said. Russel, bibles in the bookbag slung over his
shoulder, looking snazzy in his maroon shirt
grey pants and grey tie,
tipped up eagerly on the toes of his highly polished dress shoes,
ready to share.
I considered inviting them into my world,
smoking pot while lugubriously lounging about
on big pillows, listening to them preach,
trying to get them to cop to a contact high,
but changed my mind about it quickly.
The last thing I needed,
was to be reported as a drug fiend corrupting
innocent jehovah's witnesses
on a fine spring day.
Besides, I never bothered Russel
with my drug of choice,
so he should keep his to himself.
So I thanked them,
and sent them on their way.
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