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99. Bad Weed, Bad Call
Boy, this is the worst weed I’ve ever
, Wesley thought, even though it smelled great. He’d
two joints, smoked them both, and still didn’t
high. He’d heard about some super weed that
people so high that they think they’re straight.
this was super weed. Naw, he thought. This
just crap. His best buddy had ripped him
! There was only one thing to do: call
Wesley told the police his problem. They
they would be right over. He went to
front door and unlocked it. Slowly, he printed
’s phone number and address on a cigarette paper.
put it into the big baggie of grass.
wondered if his call was going to make
news. Or maybe the front page of the
: “Good Citizen Turns in Drug Dealer.” Wow! The
might make him an honorary deputy sheriff. He
another joint—maybe the third one would be the
He heard the car doors closing and
footsteps approaching. All right, he thought. He wondered
they had brought a television crew with them.
he’d make the 11 o’clock news. The police
very polite. They thanked him for Buster’s phone
and address. Then they arrested Wesley. “What for?”
“For possessing more than 28 grams of
,” an officer replied.
“But this isn’t pot—it’s more ‘
’ than ‘pot.’ Why do you think I called
—I got ripped off!”
“Well, we’ll see about that
the lab analyzes it. If you’re both lucky, you did get ripped off.”