Chp. V: Cannabi$ Cultivating + Dreamy Dream$ = Meeh, Not $o Much

Chapter 5:

Cannabi$ Cultivating + Dreamy Dream$ = Meeh, Not $o Much

The surprising twist in Arizona legislation of 2010 was the beginning of this Red State‘s official Medical Cannabis Program.
No one in the State really thought it would ever pass such an ultra-conservative legislature, but it did. Opening up entirely new options for ganga-preneurs..errr,excuse me…health care providers in the Grand Canyon State.

James certainly had this in mind when he carefully selected the land for what would end up being a campground.

He carefully measured the distance between him & the nearest dispensary to ensure he was more than 25 miles, as the crow flies, from the official establishment. This odd caveat was one of many in this strange State law.

James possessed an incredible green thumb & a genuine love for flora/fauna in general. He just knew that, if anyone could do it, he could grow the best cannabis in the Universe and sell it legally around the State. Perhaps, even other legal States.

You see, the now-camping grounds were initially suppose to be a cannabis farm. During his first year on the land, James crafted a mini-greenhouse, purchased all the knicks, the knacks & the canna-paddy-wacks of successful cultivation.

And indeed, James‘ first harvest was A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!!!
13 whole pounds of Pre-98 Bubba Kush had been the first reward for all the hard-work and elbow-grease put in. Hell, He was already germinating the seeds for the next round,as the Bubba Kush was hanging in the dark,curing to perfection.

Life can not get much better than this,James content-fully thought to himself.

He was happier than he had been in a very long time. No longer did he have to get up every morning and go into the P.R. office he loathed so much in his latter, corporate career. No longer was he tied to intensely stressful deadlines and truly-truly unreasonable demands from a gigantic host of well-to-do clients.

After 15 years, that career had began to eat a hole in Jamessoul. It was to the point that his usually impeccably flawless work
had began to suffer greatly, his work-passion obviously flowing out of that very soulhole.

In a somehow familiar blaze of glory, James walked into the conference room one day, eyes smoldering with righteous indignation & summarily

resigned with up-stretched fists & sharp-witted lamentations to all whom were present.

As he turned his back on the shocked, well-groomed company faces in the conference room, a Cheshire cat smile taffied out widely on his freshly liberated face.

But now,all the way in the middle of no-where,Arizona, a different kind of problem confronted James‘ & his new venture.

OVERSTOCK!

It must have been around Telluride when Wes‘ overly-stuffed vehicle started to show signs of increasing distress.

Both he & Gregory looked at each other with puzzled grimaces when the engine died all together & they had to coast powerlessly to the road shoulder.

Aaah,Shit,man!Wes exclaimed in frustration,

as he shifted the car into park. “What the hell are we going to do now?”

Unfortunately, neither one of our intrepid Western travelers contained much knowledge about auto mechanics, other than perhaps, where the gas and oil went.

This was not a flaw in their “manly” characters. They simply did not enjoy the mechanical-tick-tock grease-under-your-fingernails
aspect of the labor.
Wes had always made sure to find the dinero to take his vehicle to a mechanic for the routine stuff,though. Gregory,not having a vehicle on the other hand, didn’t have to worry about such things.

The steam gushing from the engine compartment

gave the duo a clear signal this was no routine breakage.

In a jolt of remembrance, Gregory urgently plunged his arm into his backpack & pulled out the white card his mother had given him before they left. Printed on the front were the words:

Deborah Angela Carlton, CLUB MEMBER SINCE 2001

He flipped the card over to find the 1-800 number & quickly proceeded to place a call to the auto club.

In the two hours it took the tow truck to reach the two, Gregory & Wes did what any sensible stoners would do in their position.

They packed a GIANT bowl!
Why not pack the glass since their asses were obviously parked for awhile.

In a tasty inhalation, Wes philosophically asked a deep,sincere, earnest question as he passed the pipe to Gregory.

Dude, What the fuck are we doing?!?!?!?!?

As he took possession of the glass, Gregory responded with surprising confidence to this imposing question,

Listen,man. It’s okay. Calm down. We’ll get through this. We have a plan and you know it. As soooooon as we hit California, we will grow the fiiiiinest weed known to man & then sell it for the big bucks,just like the guys from that one show. Easy-Peasy!
So,Let’s just stay focused and relax. We’ll make it through this,Dude.”

No sooner did Gregory utter his last word than the flashing lights of the tow truck appeared in the rear view mirror,fiiinally coming to the rescue of immobilized protagonists.