I Am The Keeper Of The Weed (BB&B)

For some reason, I always was asked to hold the stash. It never failed. Maybe it was because I was young looking or maybe because I was honest…I never really knew.

I always saw this as a sort of honor. What I should have realized at the tender age of 16 is that I was being targeted as the fall guy. Because I was usually the only one of my friends that had not been in trouble with the law, maybe they thought I would get off easier. All I knew is that it made me well liked and I always had some weed available. Living in Florida without AC makes pot a mandatory substance.

One night, I was doing my usual dish washing duties at the Egg Platter restaurant in Sarasota. This was a great place to go after partying all night. (I think we stayed open until about 4 am on the weekends). Because I had already quit school, the hours were not an issue. The stash here was kept in a big Tupperware container on a shelf above where I worked. This was not my stash so I never touched it. I think the owner of the stash just liked the idea that I could keep my eye on it.

A disturbance at some point lead to the police being called to our happy little establishment. It didn’t concern me so I didn’t think twice about it. That is until the officer walked into my work area in back. While the Tupperware was not out in the open, it certainly was not at all hidden. I must have looked guilty as hell because the first thing the cop said was, “What’s wrong with you?” I stammered “nuthin” and tried to look away from the stash. But the mojo of the weed was strong and kept saying to me, “Look at me!” The cop said some other stuff but I couldn’t hear him over the loud voice of the weed.

Finally, after about 6 hours (or a minute) the cop just walked away. I could finally breath again. The owner later came by and asked about his prized possession. I told him he would need to find a new place to hide his evil weed as I almost had been locked away for life. He laughed, we shared a blunt, all was right with the world, and we kept the Tupperware in the same place. In retrospect, I would have made a helluva mule.

7 Responses to I Am The Keeper Of The Weed (BB&B)

  1. squirrel says:

    restaurant… resteraunt???

  2. I imagine the your best mule-like quality would be your spine. That alone would make it impossible to stare at your own ass-stash while being questioned.

  3. elizabeth3hersh says:

    Fortunately (unfortunately?), I never had the right receptor sites for weed. I would derive great pleasure from other substances down the road (like “Billy beer” and let’s not forget, my first husband was a pharmacist), but never, ever, weed. That didn’t stop me from buying a pound at the tender age of 18. I thought I would try the entrepreneurial route and turn a small profit. My little enterprise never took off and if took FOREVER to unload. Like you TL, I would have been a great keeper of the stash (and just as nervous).

    Sarasota, FL- one of America’s greatest little cities, air-conditioning or not.

  4. kevin john says:

    Funny, I lived a while down in Punta Gorda. I heard that was wiped out from the storm a few years back, and I also bought my first LB @ the tender age of ..well 19 or so and lost a ton. Probably because we managed to smoke most of it without remembering it was to sell.
    Obviously Elizabeth was smarter than me.Probably still is. Hey Lizzy, wanna buy a new (slightly lived in) 5000 sqft. home?


  5. elizabeth3hersh says:

    I unloaded my last 5,000 SF home five years ago and haven’t looked back. However, I am still smarting over selling my (almost) 5000 SF home in Miami Beach nine years ago which is now valued at 1.7 million. That hurts. A lot. I’ve had as much luck in real estate as I had in moving weed.

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