Kayla wanted to take me to this club she likes. On the way, we stopped at a dispensary. We walked into what could only be described as a supermarket for bush-pot, weed, grass, skunk-a-mola, or whatever you'd prefer to call it. My eyes got glossy and red just looking at their selection. I used to buy whatever my guy had. Now! Cripes! Now I can pick from my choice of fifty different blends
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