For a time I quit drinking in college because I was getting in too many fights and generally being an ass. So I decided to exclusively smoke pot. I used to grow it in the closet of my dorm room. I got the seeds from a friend in my Spanish class. He had brought the purple haze seeds back from a trip to Amsterdam. The incense were always burning because you could smell it when you walked in the room. Eventually the plants got so big I couldn’t put clothes in the closet. Then they outgrew the closet and a decision had to be made. Harvest it all and kill my babies or transplant it. I decided on the latter and searched the West Virginia countryside until I found a suitable spot in an isolated spot of the woods near the lake. Every week or so I would go out and harvest. One day I went out to my spot and there was a pickup truck parked there. I panicked. Before I could get back in my car an old geezer with a shotgun emerged from where my plants were.

He pointed the gun at me. “What are you doing back here?”

I stared easing back. “Uh, I just stopped to take a piss.”

His arms shook. I was afraid he would accidentally shoot me. “You damn college kids come out here to steal my stuff.”

Now, stupidly I was pissed. “Your stuff?”

He squinted. “That’s right my stuff.”

He moved and the gun went off. Luckily he was aiming over my head. It was a 16 gauge double barrel and he had blown both barrels. I sprinted to my car, jumped in and drove off. And so ended my pot growing days.