CBD Dispensary Provides Faint Whisper of a High to Poor Soul Whose Dealer Never Texts Back

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Everybody has their own unique, foolproof method to decompress as we enter the annual spring existential crisis season. Unfortunately for Jeremy Kenver, a big ol’ weedster, kush supplies are running dangerously low. He has been stretching out his last nug for weeks while anxiously awaiting a maple leaf emoji response from his dealer and dear friend Toby. Anxious for some quick relief, Kenver decided to become a man of the law and visit Tree of Life and Stuff, the legal CBD store that surprisingly squeezed through Rick Scott’s clenched asscrack of intolerance and landed on Pensacola Street. Thanks Obama!

“O-ho, welcome to Tree of Life good good dispensary,” crooned an old man perched atop a rolling ladder like Mr. Ollivander in his wand shop. “Is this your first visit? We've got weed vapes, weed cakes, a smelly little whistle that makes you question if the plastic is toxic, and, ah but of course…” The man, also coincidentally named Toby, paused to adjust his spectacles. “Come closer, my dear boy, it is time to let the CBD form choose YOU, Mr. Kenver. Hm, yes, 5’9”, patchy wisp of beard, a Joy Division t-shirt…I have just the thing!” The mysterious old man pranced over to a glass case of chocolate covered pretzels and presented a bag to Jeremy. “You technically cannot overdose! If you vape this whole canister and say Bloody Mary three times in front of a mirror, you might get a faint tobacco-esque buzz!”

“It looks like weed and smells like weed, but it feels as if I’m smoking an advil or something,” spat Kenver, sorely disappointed to realize that he could take more than two hits and still be capable of reading real words. “I was this close to cancelling my summer road trip plans to Colorado. I thought we were living in the future but instead I get the weed version of my alcoholic dad’s O’Doul’s.” Kenver tortured himself by using his unimpaired mind to visualize all his cool graduated friends with their bodacious bud and blitzed boardgame bonding bashes.

The extremely mild high left him craving a singular bite of a Cheez-it and flipping to the end of his “Cars 2” calendar, reminding himself that his birthday is still six months away. Angry that he was ripped off by such a weak strain, Kenver considered ranting about the store on social media with a very fresh take on the Krusty Krab / Chum Bucket meme that is definitely still funny but then grew too lazy and just sufficed to get drunk on three dollar margs like a true Seminole.


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