This guy Marcus, right, wanted to do some crazy stuff between classes one day. It was like some smoke. I wasn’t into it first, but the struggles of making mocha skim crappa lattes had gotten to me all day. So I was like, “Hell yeah, let’s do this.”
This guy, Mark, followed me behind the main campus building like he was taking me to the fireplace in Lost. At length we betook ourselves among the green bushes and the cheap wooden fence of the smoke-house. It was huge. I had never seen this one fat and puffy with Jamaican goodness. I was like that. “Man, what is that?”
He smiles at me shaking his head up and down. He leans in closely and says, “Mary Jane’s Camel Toe,” in a soft wacky voice.
He handed this to me, and offered me the first light and languishing. I looked at it, holding it in my hands. We brought it to my nose to get the essence of the liquid crystalline sea and jerk chicken. Then, with disgust, I had to inform Mark that it was a burrito.
