10:46 am
30 April 2017

HIGH, ON THE MOUNTAINTOP: My Home Grow Teacher

HIGH, ON THE MOUNTAINTOP: My Home Grow Teacher
W.W. Felch
W.W. Felch

W.W. Felch

Bienvenue Beehive Blazers! Weed Weed Felch here with the latest High, On The Mountaintop.

As I am sure you are painfully aware Utah has been experiencing a bit of a dry spell as of late. Sure, there is plenty of ditch weed out there. The kind of weed that was, shall we say, less valiant in the pre-existence. But once you have had Celestial you can’t go back to Terrestrial, know what I’m saying?

Every morning and every evening this week as I knelt in prayer I beseeched the Lord to send us moisture in the form of some sticky icky.

They say that God will often answer prayers through other people, and now I can bear testimony to that.

Yesterday my poor kief catcher was down to the dregs. I scraped together enough for a meager bowl, loaded it up into Parley P. Pipe, and resigned myself that this would be my final communion before a long and lonely walk in the desert.

No sooner had I flicked my Bic then there was a knock at my door. I looked through my peephole and saw that it was my Home Teacher, who lives in the apartment above me. I immediately invited him to come in and sit.

“Do you have any money?” he said with a knowing smile.

“We have sufficient for our needs,” was my coy reply.

“Well,” he said as he lifted out a Ziplock bag nearly bursting with buds. “You can buy anything in this world with money.”

Quite literally the man upstairs had heard my prayers!

Turns out that my Home Teacher has quite the little grow op at his place. I guess I never noticed the smell because I just assumed that it was my place that always reeked of weed.

And behold, Parley P. Pipe was filled with the spirit!

And behold, Parley P. Pipe was filled with the spirit!

But before getting down to business he insisted on first giving me this month’s message from the Ensign. He is one of those dudes that pronounce it En-Sen, which usually bugs the shit out of me, but I was so happy to see his green that I let it slide.

After finishing his message he dumped a little shake onto the cover of the magazine. “Would you mind taking the curse off of this for us Brother Felch?”

I bowed my head and choked back tears as I began my humble prayer. “Our dear kine Heavenly Father, we thank thee for this dank. We thank thee for the gift of hydroponics. We thank thee for the miracle of the grow lamp. Please bless this Afghani Train Wreck that it will nourish and strengthen our minds, and do us the good that we need. And please bless the hands that have prepared it. We say these things, with thanksgiving in our hearts, in the name of thy son and our Savior, even Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Time limit is exhausted. Please reload the CAPTCHA.