Real story: my dad used to smoke a lot of weed. Even though he hated drinking and was a preacher, he liked smoking weed. My mom hated it apparently, but she liked that it kept him home. They both grew up in a bad neighborhood, so all of their friends were still out in the streets at night doing good shit despite being adults with kids. My mom despised The whole hood aesthetic and lifestyle, so she distanced herself from all that. Weed and Jesus helped my dad distance himself from that stuff too.
So anyway, I also smoked weed. I didn’t know my dad did, but I knew my brother did. Actually, I didn’t know anything “adult” about my parents. They kept that stuff well hidden. I kept my stash under my bed. One day while I was working at the mall, I got a phone call. I had never gotten a phone call, so I was freaked out. It was my dad. All he said was “don’t come home after work. Stay out until around 11 or so. Don’t come in if your mom is still awake.” (You could tell who was awake by what bedroom lights were still lit by TVs).
So, I go out after work and drink coffee and read a bit at Denny’s. I wasn’t a big party dude. I come home at midnight and my dad is in the living room. I ask him what had happened. He told me that my mom had found my stash and flipped out. She was convinced I was going the hood route, and she was ready to beat the shit out of me to ruin that plan. My dad calmed her down by telling her he’d discipline me and put on a big show about how mad he was. Then he had called my job.
That night my dad sat me down and we talked about weed. He told me it wasn’t bad, but it was illegal, and cops love it when niggas break laws. He told me I shouldn’t smoke, but if I did, I shouldn’t be high or have drugs on me in public. He also told me not to buy weed. He showed me his stash box (in the bbq pit outside under the place where the coal is stored... genius as only he used it). He said if I needed some, get it from there. Smoke it at home. Smoke it alone. Then stay home until I was sober.
Then he grounded me for a week.... and that’s the story of how I spent an entire week high as a kite.
ObviouslyAPirate on November 18th, 2017 at 17:56 UTC »
Real and wholesome
Load04 on November 18th, 2017 at 19:45 UTC »
"stoned like a cheating muslim woman"
lol, I've heard a lot of different "high as a kite" sayings, but this one is something special.
Chumbolex on November 18th, 2017 at 23:11 UTC »
Real story: my dad used to smoke a lot of weed. Even though he hated drinking and was a preacher, he liked smoking weed. My mom hated it apparently, but she liked that it kept him home. They both grew up in a bad neighborhood, so all of their friends were still out in the streets at night doing good shit despite being adults with kids. My mom despised The whole hood aesthetic and lifestyle, so she distanced herself from all that. Weed and Jesus helped my dad distance himself from that stuff too.
So anyway, I also smoked weed. I didn’t know my dad did, but I knew my brother did. Actually, I didn’t know anything “adult” about my parents. They kept that stuff well hidden. I kept my stash under my bed. One day while I was working at the mall, I got a phone call. I had never gotten a phone call, so I was freaked out. It was my dad. All he said was “don’t come home after work. Stay out until around 11 or so. Don’t come in if your mom is still awake.” (You could tell who was awake by what bedroom lights were still lit by TVs).
So, I go out after work and drink coffee and read a bit at Denny’s. I wasn’t a big party dude. I come home at midnight and my dad is in the living room. I ask him what had happened. He told me that my mom had found my stash and flipped out. She was convinced I was going the hood route, and she was ready to beat the shit out of me to ruin that plan. My dad calmed her down by telling her he’d discipline me and put on a big show about how mad he was. Then he had called my job.
That night my dad sat me down and we talked about weed. He told me it wasn’t bad, but it was illegal, and cops love it when niggas break laws. He told me I shouldn’t smoke, but if I did, I shouldn’t be high or have drugs on me in public. He also told me not to buy weed. He showed me his stash box (in the bbq pit outside under the place where the coal is stored... genius as only he used it). He said if I needed some, get it from there. Smoke it at home. Smoke it alone. Then stay home until I was sober.
Then he grounded me for a week.... and that’s the story of how I spent an entire week high as a kite.