Happy 420!

 

I hope you’re celebrating 420 by enjoying your personal liberties. It’s kinda like the 4th of July, but with joints instead of fireworks. If you like reading, laughing, and getting high, you’ll love my upcoming book Controlling Chaos!

 

 

Check out this fun excerpt and see what I mean:

 

With six giant plots to develop, Tom and I were overwhelmed. We needed help, lots of it. That meant, for better or worse, teaming up with the Gump Boys.

Though the Boys were eager and well-intentioned, without expert supervision on a regular—better make that constant—basis, we wouldn’t see the kind of results we wanted. Clearly, the Gumps were better suited to moonshining than growing pot. Not that growing pot was tricky, but even simple things like digging holes, proved, well, difficult for the average Gump and impossible for the rest.

To get things started, Tom and I made example holes. We dug down a couple feet, turned the soil over, gave our holes a two-foot diameter. With no rocks and the soil so soft, it took two minutes.

“Got it?” I asked.

Booger shook his head. “Shee-it, Huck, that ain’t no hole.”

“It’s not?”

“You done filled it back up. A real hole don’t got nothing in it.”

Tom laughed. “He’s got you there.”

After a little back and forth the Gump Boys agreed to humor me regarding the terminology.

I confused them again when I said, “Make the holes about this size and about six feet apart.”

“All of them?” ask Goober.

“Well, yeah, on average.”

“What if there’s a tree?” asked Cooter Gump.

That was a good question. We’d already covered it more than once, but obviously, not enough.

“Skip a space or two and start on the other side.”

“Why don’t we cut the trees down?”

We’d already covered that, too. I sighed and said, “They’re our camouflage. We want our plots to look as natural as possible, not like corn fields.”

“Don’t you like corn?”

“Love it.”

Goober wanted clarification. “Just not growing it?”

Always the patient teacher, I answered calmly. “Aarrgh. . .”

It went on like that in all the plots. Booger and Goober’s teams grasped the concepts the best. The other two teams? Hardly at all. After Booger and Goober, the brain pool really dropped off. To be honest, even before. Turbo was next in line when it came to coherence, but that wasn’t saying much. Something I learned on an early inspection tour. Tom and I rode along as Turbo guided us through the swamps. I rode in front, mesmerized by the scenery. The marshlands were pristine, looking like they had for eons. Startled great blue herons flew from the shallows as we passed. Ospreys roosted atop tall trees. We caught fleeting glimpses of snakes, gators, muskrat, raccoon, nutria, wild pigs, and deer. Where unpolluted by man, Chaos had some beautiful scenery. It would still be beautiful in July and August, only I wouldn’t appreciate it then.

Twenty minutes later, I said, “Turbo, these here holes are fine.”

“Well, all righty, then!”

“But how come these holes are right next to each other?”

Possum Gump fielded that one. “Uh. . .”

“Turbo, weren’t you supposed to make sure everyone was on the same page.”

Turbo shrugged. “We wuzn’t reading a book, Huck.”

Possum added, “Not that we could.”

We visited team leader Spud’s plot the next day. Despite our samples, he and brother Dexter had themselves a little competition, seeing who could dig the deepest holes. Our crack staff’s inability to coordinate something as simple as digging holes did not bode well for the overall project. Something I mentioned to Tom that evening.

“Working with the Gump Boys seemed like a great idea, but in practice, well. . .”

Tom took a gulp of beer. “Tell me about it.”

“We could use some qualified help.”

Tom nodded. “That’s for damn sure. You have anyone in mind?”

“Yes, I do, but I’m not sure if they’ll come. At least, voluntarily.”

“You came.”

“Yeah, but I was desperate. Plus, you extorted me. And even then, it was an act of faith.”

Tom puffed up. “I told you we could grow great pot here.”

“Yeah, Tom, you did. Thank God you were right, because I did not want to strangle you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But I wasn’t sure we shared the same definition of great pot. But now,” I said, as I pulled a tasty bud out of a Ziploc, “we’ve got convincing evidence.”

 

If you haven’t already started the hilarious Señor Bueno Travel Adventure series, grab a Free Copy of Turning On and get started now!