cannabisnews.com: A Boy Holds his Breath When Mother Won't Inhale!





A Boy Holds his Breath When Mother Won't Inhale!
Posted by FoM on May 27, 1999 at 08:12:03 PT
Just an interesting story!
Source: The Toronto Star
THIS IS the story of a boy and his mother. But it's not just about them. It's also about the boy's father, the boy's wife, the boy's brother, the boy's brother's wife, the boy's niece and nephew, and the boy's dealer.
The boy worried about his mother. He worried because she'd had three artificial hips, and had put so much mileage on one of the replacements that it was long past due for replacement. He worried because a tumour the size of a volleyball had been removed from her tummy, but there was still something down there gnawing away. The doctors didn't want to replace her worn-out hip because there was so much mileage on the rest of the boy's mother that her bones weren't up to it. They couldn't quite locate what was gnawing away in her tummy. Painkillers were no use. For all the good they did, she might as well have swallowed jujubes. It got the boy thinking, though. If not conventional painkillers, what about unconventional? What about marijuana? For medical purposes only. The perfect thing for chronic pain. The boy had followed the discussions in the news, and suggested it. ``We don't smoke,'' said the boy's father. ``It's illegal,'' said the boy's mother. Click the above link to read this interesting story!
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Comment #2 posted by FoM on May 30, 1999 at 20:02:59 PT
Here's the Rest of the Story!
Sorry some links break very fast so here is the rest of the above article!``You can bake it in brownies,'' said the boy. ``Hmm,'' said the boy's father. ``Did you hear me?! It's illegal!'' That the boy's mother had ``views'' always came as a surprise to the boy and his father, especially when these ``views'' conflicted with theirs, which they always did. ``Brownies, eh?'' said the boy's father. He was a pushover for brownies. It was all the encouragement the boy needed. ``I know a dealer,'' said the boy's wife. Funny, isn't it? You know somebody for 25 years and you think you know everything about them and it turns out you don't. For instance, you might not know that your wife knows a dealer and can give you the number off the top of her head. ``I'd like a dime-bag,'' the boy said into the phone. ``Ninety bucks,'' said the dealer. ``Ninety bucks! Times sure do change.'' ``Yeah,'' said the dealer. ``It's already the 20th century.'' The boy did, however, remember a few things from his prehistoric youth. ``And not all stems and seeds,'' he said. ``Puh-leeze,'' said the dealer, like the clerk in Tiffany's when you ask if the ring will turn your finger green. Time seemed of the essence, and the boy's brother and his brother's wife and their children were going to be visiting the folks the very next day. Not being entirely sure of his brother's ``views,'' and wishing to provide him with plausible deniability in case of arrest, the boy slipped the package to his niece and nephew. The boy felt very pleased with himself. He was a good son and was helping his mother. As their visit ended, his niece and nephew sidled up to Grandma and chimed, ``By the way, here's the dope from Unk.'' Sproing! In retrospect, the boy was never able to figure out exactly what it was. Whether it was the commission of a crime on her premises. Or that her grandchildren 1) were being used as mules, and 2) were so chipper about it (hardly the boy's fault; they are chipper children). Or that her idiot elder son could have landed his barely adolescent niece and nephew in Kingston Pen for transporting substances across county lines. Or that she was just having one of her funny reactions. Obviously she reacted funny to a lot of things. Sproing! As if somebody hot-wired her artificial hips and cranked in 50,000 volts. (Niece's report: ``It was suddenly like Grandma was on this atomic pogo-stick.'') A day or two passed with no word. The boy even imagined his mother and father having a high old time, and pain-free. ``Have another browwwwwwnie!'' ``Browwwwwwneeeeee! What a funny word!'' And the doorbell ringing. ``I hope it's not the poe-leeeees!'' ``Poe-poe-leeeeeeeees!'' But it wasn't the police. It was another taxi filled with Cheezies, the third of the day. So he phoned. His father answered. ``Your mother's not speaking to you.'' Not quite what the boy expected. ``What? Is she all right?'' ``I don't know.'' ``What do you mean you don't know?'' ``She's not speaking to me, either.'' ``But you had nothing to do with it.'' ``She's not taking any prisoners.'' After a few months, relations were normalized. Sort of the way relations between China and the West get normalized. Some things are never mentioned. Marijuana was never mentioned. What had she done with it? All the boy could think was: She's got it somewhere. She's got it somewhere and she's holding on to it. And so he became an even better son than he had been before. He did this because he loved his mother. And because now she had the goods on him. And the first time he got out of line she would call 911. 
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Comment #1 posted by OOPS on May 30, 1999 at 12:21:29 PT
Missing Article!
 The link to this article goes to an error page. The link needs to be fixed, please. Oops, it got lost!
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