06:01 pm
17 February 2018

HIGH, ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP: A Poor Wayfaring Man of Kief

HIGH, ON THE MOUNTAIN TOP: A Poor Wayfaring Man of Kief
W.W. Felch
W.W. Felch

W.W. Felch

Hey sMOkers, your old pal W. W. here with the good word on the sweet leaf.

It has been a rough one for ol’ W Squared. I have been broke for the past month and my supply ran dry early in the week so I had to resort to scraping the residue out of old bowls just to feel the spirit.

I don’t know about you but those resin hits can be harsh on the lungs. I recommend a gravity bong when attempting to smoke the goo. I have a dandy one I fashioned out of an old Sobe bottle that I call the Waters of Mormon, and it usually does the trick.

But even with my glassware of curious workmanship I wasn’t getting the mellow peace that only comes from the more traditional, and shall we say wholesome, preparations of the herb. My soul hungered for a righteous smoke.

It wasn’t until sundown on Saturday that I realized that I hadn’t checked the kief catcher of my grinder in months. I opened it up and exclaimed, “The field is white already to harvest!” As you probably know, kief is the crystalline pollen that collects at the bottom of your grinder. It is delicious to the taste and very desirable.

Glassware of curious workmanship.

Glassware of curious workmanship.

Needless to say there was much rejoicing in the land. I ritualistically cleansed the screen on the Waters of Mormon and laid a generous offering upon its altar.

And behold I did partake and it was good! Almost immediately my mind was spirited away to the words of John the Beloved while he was doing shrooms exiled on the Isle of Patmos:

“And again they said, Alleluia. And her smoke rose up for ever and ever.” -Book of Rev. 19:3

I emerged from the Waters of Mormon having received both the baptism of water and fire. I was about to reload when I realized that the sabbath was nigh. And not just any sabbath…it was fucking Fast Sunday!

The natural man wanted to head to the kitchen and make a sandwich, and a dozen Totino’s Pizza Rolls, and a pitcher of Grape Kool-Aid. But I am happy to say that I stared down the natural man and I was all like, “Get thee hence motherfucker!”

Surely the Savior, who suffered all of our afflictions, had experienced the pain of Fast Sunday Munchies. If he could do 40 days I could at least give him 24 hours.

And we all know the best way to stave off the hunger of Fast Sunday is to keep smoking until you fall asleep. Dream of your mansions above my brothers and sisters.

1 comment

  • My good brother. Why have you not heeded the words of the prophets? The prophets have warned us, yea, they have warned us with great fervor, to prepare for such a situation with a 72 hour kit and and a having a years supply at hand.

    Dude, you can’t be so slothful. Don’t be like those foolish virgins with their empty bongs. Prepare yea now!

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