I smoked so much weed in High School that the last two years I was still in, after dropping out and going back to another school, that I earned the nickname Space Case #1.
That got shortened to just Space and literally 1/2 of the kids in that school didn’t know what my real name was.
Oh the stories I could tell….
Like the time me and another kid snuck out to some woods next to the school that was the designated Stoner hideout to get wasted. He had a freaking 1/2 pound of some good weed.
That was an ungodly amount of weed for where we were at back in those days.
There was this little opening in the brush just below a road behind the school and we were just getting ready to light one up when I saw a cop car pull up and stop not fifteen feet away.
I told the kid to ditch the weed quick, which he just barely managed to do.
He hadn’t seen the cop because his back was to the road.
The cop came down and harassed us real good and made a bunch of empty threats but he didn’t do shit and finally went on his way when he couldn’t find any drugs or shit.
The kid was shitting bricks the whole time I could tell but he held it together enough to keep from saying anything stupid.
After the cop finally left the guy started thanking me profusely for saving his ass from getting busted with the weed.
I tried to blow it off because I sure as hell didn’t want to get nailed with it because it wasn’t mine but he kept going on thanking me. I finally found out why he was so damn scared and so damn thankful.
He told me his dad was the Sheriff.