High on Low

I was smoking an American Spirit on the bench by the doors of Butler Library on a Wednesday night, taking a break from my macroeconomics homework and looking up at the lack of stars. A friend from Sundial and two others came up to me, and one of them offered me a dollar for a cigarette. A profitable transaction increasing my net value, I thought to myself, and eagerly accepted. Soon, a thought crossed my friend’s mind. “Hey, you just pitched that article about weed, right? Dude, that’s sick.”

“Yeah, bruh, it’s gonna be gnarly,” I replied, in the mindless slang of my Southern California upbringing.

“Actually, we’re about to go smoke a couple joints, you wanna come along? Get some investigative journalism in,” he suggested.