A man stands in the airport. His flight has been delayed! He needs breakfast for he is hungry. He goes to a Burger King and orders silver dollar pancakes. As he waits for news on his flight he begins to pour the syrup. The syrup is oozing all over the pancakes, sticky and sweet, as syrup should be. But the man cannot stop! He cant stop pouring he syrup. The syrup overflows on the plate, and begins pooling onto his lap and the ground below. People stare on in disbelief. The syrup just wont stop!! How could so much syrup be coming from one tiny bottle? The man is confused and scared but he cannot move his hand to stop pouring. He is frozen, he tries to force out a scream but it becomes stuck on his lips. The syrup level is rising and people are trying to get away but the syrup is so sticky it stops them is their tracks. It is up to the man’s ankles now. One child begins to cry and he hugs his mother, slowly sinking in the syrup. She is cold and she is not moving. The boy cries “Wake up Mommy!” But Mommy is so sticky she cannot move. A raindrop falls outside and a man trips. A bird tweet but is silenced by the sweet release of death. The syrup has reached the man’s knees now. People are treading through the sticky syrup and screaming, praying that they can make it out alive. The man is silent. In his eyes is the purest look of fear a human has ever worn on their face. He silently cries for help, his pupils dilating and consuming the last bits of light he can before his ultimate demise. Many people have drowned already and more are still. Bodies float at the surface of the syrup, the children are crying and trying to find higher ground but they too are sucked under the sweet, sticky syrup. The syrup is at the man’s chest. He breathes in, remembering the times he and his mother would go outside and play when he was a wee lad. How much fun they had, how much love there was. There was so much joy in his eyes at them time. But now it is all gone. The only thing left in his eyes now is pain. Sadness. Regret. Why did he have to get pancakes, why did he have to have syrup? He could have easily had sugar, or gotten a breakfast burrito. He may have had gas on the flight, but at least these families would still be alive. He thinks - “I am a murderer. I am cold and shameless. I deserve this fate.” The syrup is now at his neck. A single tear worms its way out of his left eye. The syrup is still pouring and he is still frozen. He closes his eyes and breathes in. This is his fate. He will never feel the joy of having a Bad Dragon Teenie Weenie shoved up his shota asshole, he will never see his mother again, he will never have pancakes again. But that’s okay. Everything will be okay. The syrup is at his chin. He looks around at the bodies in the syrup. He looks at the details of their faces frozen in horror. He had caused this. Trash. He is trash, he thinks to himself. The syrup is now past his nose and he can no longer breathe. He closes his eyes and attempts to pass on peacefully, but when his body forces itself to take a breathe, he can feel syrup rush down his throat and into his lungs. His throat is burning, his eyes stinging, his body begins to flail. It isn’t long before he, too, is cold and motionless, and he is consumed by the syrup. Somehow, it is still pouring. A baby in England begins to cry as its mother looks on, her hands in shackles. A dead leaf snaps off a tree branch and blows in the wind, landing in a birdbath. There is a peaceful silence and a light appears on the horizon. The sun is moving closer to earth, instead of magma now, it is made of burning hot syrup. The sun is rocketing towards our planet and they collide, syrup flying everywhere. It splatters on Uranus, Pluto, Mars, they are propelled backwards further through space. This sets off a chain reaction, planets and solar systems and galaxies fold in on themselves and become syrup. A wormhole transports the substance into Hell and Satan begins to scream, he has known horrors beyond any earthly understanding but this is too much. He calls out to God, apologizing and begging for forgiveness of his pride, but God does not answer, for God is dead. God has been consumed by the syrup is well. Satan disappears. The syrup has consumed him. The edges of the universe begins to twist, they catapult upwards and fly towards each other like metal and magnets. The join and fall into each other. The syrup level is still rising. The middle of the universe becomes a black hole and everything is sucked in, and as the last particle is ripped into nothingness, all that is left is a tiny Maple Syrup bottle, floating in the void as the sound of a woman’s voice singing softly emenates from a pink light in the distance, growing ever brighter. Perhaps this is the only sanctuary we will ever know. But that’s okay. We are at peace. We are finally at peace.

Stoner pride.

I live in BC. My shitty weed is your average weed. My average is your best. Now, imagine even better. That’s our good weed. Imagine the highest you’ve ever been after a day of toking. With the amazing weed here, you would probably pass out.
Best part? Depending on the dealer it’s only $5-10 a gram, even for the good stuff.