The Universal Joint
At the Universal Joint, you can get anything you want, if it’s about pot. Bongs, pipes, rolling papers. Hippie tie-dye clothing, hippie beads, 60s psychedelic posters, acid zines, spacey meditation CDs, Indian inspired jewellery, Tibetan prayer flags, everything.
You want hash? How about our cannabis beers and wines? Hemp petits fours? Hemp seed cooking oil? Hemp moisturising cream? A daily journal, hand-made from hemp fibre paper? Hemp briquettes for your wood-burning stove?
What, you want to ”get high”? Be off with you, young man, before I call the police! This is a respectable neighbourhood, we don’t want potheads around here!
The atmosphere was tense as we faced each other, unblinking, across the table.
He slowly took a bullet from the box, inspected it carefully, then slipped it into the chamber, snapping the barrel closed, and giving it a good spin, before gently placing the piece down again.
“So, d’ya wanna go first, or second? Your call, bro, I’m easy.”
By way of a reply, I took hold of the gun, held the barrel to my head, and pulled the trigger.
There was a click, then silence.
I slid the gun across the table.
Then watched him blow his brains out.
Some might say that nothing changed. The empty room was still empty. The beautiful view was still beautiful. The cranky neighbor was still cranky. When I asked the neighbor why you weren’t picking up the phone, he shrugged. “But where did she go?” I asked and he walked away. I just stood there, in the middle of an empty room, looking at the beautiful view, wondering. I still had that photo we took together in Brazil, laughing like two lunatics, two happy lunatics. When I terminated the lease on the apartment, I noticed that B, drawn on the dusty kitchen counter.
Where did they go?
Well, some of them, I chopped up and fed them to the local stray dogs, others, I threw into the river, weighted down with concrete blocks, whilst for those a little more off the beaten track, it was a shallow, unmarked grave.
There’s a million ways to dispose of a body, if you know what you’re doing.
Some methods, of course, are more effective than others, and for excellent results every time, I highly recommend the good old fashioned acid bath.
I’ve got a body brewing in one right now, in a barrel out the back.
“It was the Fall of new century,” dryly stated Ford, “Oxford was turning
brown, swirls of leaves drifted around my feet.” Hamilton interjected:
“Before the rebels took the campus?” Ford looked off to his right trying
to assemble space into a responsive time. “Yes, dear boy. A gentler time,
before the barrels on the roofs. But that would be another tale. Perhaps
later?” “Where was I … oh on my way to the library. I had just made it
the door when I hear a voice over my shoulder.” “Some might say a strong
wind blows against the empire.”
The noise in the lunch room and the distance the rest of the students universally kept allowed Billbert and Sabrina to talk openly.
“The other students have treated you this way your whole life?” Billbert asked. “Is it because your parents are…magic users?”
Sabrina shook her head, “Full disclosure. My parents haven’t been in my life for many years.”
Before he could realize he was putting his foot in his mouth, Billbert asked, “Where did they go?”
Her face turned a dangerous shade of red. “Some might say they weren’t cut out for parenting and chose to pursue other interests.”
Cheesy Meatball Mushrooms
I wouldn’t know, but if you’ve consumed the gentle herb, try these:
6 Brown mushroom caps, minimum 1” across, no stems
3 Meatballs, cooked and split
2 Tablespoons EVOO
2 Teaspoons kosher salt
3 Tablespoons marinara sauce
¼ cup of Italian blend shredded cheese
Preheat oven to 400*F
Toss mushroom caps in oil and place upside down on baking sheet. Sprinkle with salt. Bake for 12 minutes, or until softened.
Spoon proportional amounts of marinara sauce into caps. Place meatball half, round side down, into sauce. Cover each with cheese. Finish baking for 6 minutes, or until cheese is melted.
Some street hustlers and table magicians use the traditional three playing cards for Three Card Monte scams.
Others use cups and balls, from cheap Red Solo cups to brushed silver cups.
They let you win the first time, then reel you in.
I know this guy who uses a lit joint instead of the ball.
Shuffles the cups around, the mark feels the cups and lifts the warm one.
Then they look up, and see the joint in the guy’s mouth.
Another guy uses big barrels and a bowling ball.
But no matter what they use, they’ll get your money.