Stoner much? – Part 1

The Colonel used to smoke up, however he is under the impression that cannabis doesn’t suit him. His daughter on the other hand, me, is a stoner. A series of events led to quite a change in the way I viewed my father. 

My mother is a hypochondriac and a control freak who won’t accept it. I mean, I love her to bits and all, but that is the truth of the matter. So one night I decided that the colonel and I should have a “father-daughter date”. From the onset mum was not very happy about it. Issues I could discuss in depth, but that’s for another time. While dad and I enjoyed our extremely filling burgers, my mother went through my cupboard. 

Now, it’s no surprise to my family that I smoke. Each time I convince them that I quit, only to go and have a smoke later in the evening. What they don’t know is that I’m mainly a cannabis smoker, and not a cigarette smoker. (Cigarette smoking is injurious to the user’s health, as well as the health of the people surrounding the user.)

So, the morning after the date I’m on a call with my mother, because I’ve woken up late and she’s already out for some work, and her tone was just not right. When I prodded her to tell me what the matter was her point blank statement made me laugh on the phone itself – “I found grass in your cupboard.”

However hilarious that statement might seem coming from someone who’s lived half a century, the worst thing you can do is laugh when they say it. After this point yours truly was left hanging because mother dear disconnected the call. Once she got home there was a long discussion which ended as —

Mom – I don’t want to talk to you if you do drugs. 

Me – You know what? I’ll talk to you when you tell me how cannabis is a drug. 

As you can see, I’m a stubborn person, and when I have strong beliefs I stick by them. I’ve done my research, I can win the argument time and again. And I’m sly, as you’re about to read. *wink wink*

At the lunch table that day, drugs came up as a point of conversation. I banged my hands on the table like Arnab Goswami and said to dad, “You tell me what is wrong with weed. There is no scientific evidence proving it is bad. In fact, so many doctors smoke weed.”

He accepted the point as graciously as possible and said, “once in a while it’s okay.” And then came the moment where I threw my hands in the air and looked at my mother and shouted, “TAKE THAT.” 

Not my best moment, but I take what I get. This established at home that I indulged in some recreational weed every once in a while; that could be once every 4 hours or once in a month, that’s all semantics.

*This story is entirely fictional and any resemblance to characters in real life is purely coincidental.

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