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Thursday, September 10, 2009

High Life by Hayes Hemingway




The hot sun was boiling and I could feel my body begging me not to come back outside, but that's exactly what I was going to do. I was going in my friend's house and right back out. So I'm walking up the street when I get a call from my housemate saying he saw me walking, and he didn't pick me up because he didn't think I was going home. He was right, because I was going to be in this location for no more than half an hour.


My friend was attending a movie screening and I was tagging along, but I was really hungry, so I made a sandwich. A greasy sandwich. A "makes no sense" sandwich. I threw about 8 strips of bacon into a pan and got out two ends of bread. While the bacon was sizzling in the pan I cut some thick slices of cheddar cheese. Then I threw them all together in the bread and toasted it in the pan. While I was eating this creation I thought to myself all the possible ingredients I could have used in the sandwich like lettuce, or tomatoes or a burger or something because bacon cheddar are usually together but not by themselves. Regardless it was great and I decided to roll myself a nice blunt, just in case we were running late to go to the screening. I wanted to be medicated for the commute.


It was a typical scorching day in LA with the helicopters snooping from above. I cracked my mini green leaf vanilla dutch and the tobacco fell into the trash can. As I licked the leaf I began to wonder why Dutchmaster made this flavor and this thought still crossed my mind as I put bud in the dutch leaf. My friend's housemate, named Dub, was sitting in the next room on the couch, when suddenly he said, "The cops are here."


Several thoughts crossed my mind, none of which told me I should stop rolling this blunt. I knew neither he, myself or my boy was in trouble so I didn't expect much until the cops walked in on my pre-medication with their guns drawn.


"Put that down," said a tall geeky one who looked like the leader from Revenge of the Nerds.


"Who else is here?" said a stout black man with greying facial hair. He looked like a Tyler Perry character.


"You got a recommendation for this?" I heard myself being asked by the nerd.


Being in this situation and being asked this question was the entire reason why I got a doctor's recommendation. So I proudly presented my recommendation and I could read the disappointment in the officer's face when my paperwork was up to date and valid..




The same went for both my friends, but they weren't here for us, as I stated before. There was a lot of plants in the yard. We saw the plants everyday and the landlord tending to them, but it was none of my business. I knew he was over the legal limit of plants which is six, but I figured because he was in the Dispensary business, he knew what he was doing.


For the next 4 hours more cops showed up and uprooted all the plants and bagged them for evidence, and they took all landlord's marijuana. There was a female officer who asked if we had a box for her and she had a bag in her hand that had two and a half ounces in it. I asked her if she could give me some of the bud in the bag and in true cunt-fashion, said, "Want me to roll it up for you?"


The cops took a good 5 pounds, most likely more, in bags and containers and they took in the landlord. All the while the stout narcotics detective was in the living room with us watching the Giants take on the Braves. His sergeant showed up and he cursed, then greeted his sergeant before muttering under his breath, "That's right, take your ass straight to the back. You're not gonna fuck up me watching this game."


Then he asked us, "What do you use marijuana for?"


Dub said, "Arthritis."


I said, "Anxiety."


He said, "Really, anxiety? What are you anxious about?"


"Life," I said.


"Really? What's stressful about your life? Coming up in the 70's..." when he started on this one I was like, "here we go," but he had a point. "Everywhere I went, it was 'nigger this, nigger that.' You just had to deal with it."




All I could do was respect him like I do all my black elders for going through the struggle, but I was more concerned with the blunt I was rolling. I just wanted to be sedated. Being babysat in the living room I didn't see what else was going on, but I could hear it and the landlord was facing charges and it seemed like he was going to make his girlfriend take the heat. That's when things got loud. She threw the fit of fits and the cops had no choice but to let her go. Around this time we stopped being babysat and the desire to smoke was really fucking with me. I walked to the door and asked the stout detective, "You done in the house? I need to medicate and I don't want any problems." Prior to that I tried to finish rolling my blunt and the police were like, "What are you really doing right now?" The stout detective said, "You got your papers right? You should be good. Just make sure you roll a blunt for me." I didn't know how to take that last comment so I laughed awkwardly, the way you're supposed to with the police, because you don't know what their motives are.


So by the powers vested by Prop 215 in me, I light my blunt with my two friends and as the smoke filled the room and our lungs the commotion going on outside seemed to dissipate from our bodies. It seemed like from that point on everything was normal again. It was night time when they finally left. The yard was full of holes. It looked like a groundhog den. All the pretty plants that were on schedule for a late Fall harvest were now just going to die in a police evidence room. I hope in that taskforce there's at least one crooked cop who planted one of the plants in his home, or is enjoying the various strains of marijuana seized as evidence.


We never made it to that movie-screening, but we got to live a movie of our own. You just read about it.


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