#234 - Check Your Temperature (Rewrite of Episode #62)

<p dir="ltr">It was the hot dab that did me in.<br /> <br /> Thank you, my airheaded rookie administrator, for enlightening me about what the inside of a barrel of a flame thrower feels like when delivering a dragon’s maniacal fire.<br /> <br /> And just when I managed to inhale actual air, the entire experience was intensified upon identifying the sensation of having swallowed a sleeping porcupine into my lungs who, upon awakening in the cramped space, was overcome with fear, causing it to instinctually employ its quills in order to defend itself.<br /> <br /> This is where the anxiety kicked in, triggered by the claustrophobia that turned into paranoia. Suddenly, this place was a trap—a cage, stirring my stable thoughts into a panic while I gauged whether the extreme discomfort would cause madness before having the luxury of first offing myself.<br /> <br /> And then came the bong spins. At least that’s what they used to call it long before concentrates with 110% THC existed. So out of the place I fled, incapable of explaining myself not only because of the inability to formulate and convey a cohesive word but also for the complete lack of oxygen flowing through my gills.<br /> <br /> The night instantly took a Fear and Loathing turn, forcing the retreat from the party into the sanctity of the vehicle when suddenly there appeared a judge from Pink Floyd’s The Wall hammering down his gavel for the crime of a wasted, meaningless life. And then the dizziness proved a harsh catalyst, churning the stomach into a pressurized brew of thick stew, conjuring the recently eaten food truck kung pao calamari to projectile launch onto the misty pavement in the back alley.<br /> <br /> This was the worst Cannabis experience of my life.<br /> <br /> Thank goodness for cool dabs.<br /> <br /> And the cool mother fuckers who know how to heat a dab.<br /> <br /> But if you don’t, that’s okay because that’s why the good lord gave us the vape cart.</p> <p> </p>