It’s 1 a.m., I am currently more high than I have ever been in my life. A ghostly apparition is coming out of the ceiling. My cat is looking at me with concern—or maybe I’m imagining the concern, like I’m imagining whatever is hovering above me. This is all the fault of a fancy new gadget I’ve just used to get high, though the fault may lie with me, the dumbass who didn’t know what he was getting into. Welcome to the world of smoking pot in 2018.
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