Weed Packing Conversations
“You know…” Sweet Leaf took a sip of organic tea and looked at Sandalwood. “At some point in a poly relationship it really starts showing that we all have a type.”
Sandalwood groaned. He was standing by the kitchen counter with a screwdriver, trying to fix the scales. “Says the girl who wanted to have a yearbook photo next to Wallflower’s pic, labelled ‘the cooler Wallflower’.”
Sweet Leaf shrugged and smirked. “Well, that’s kinda true. Want some tea?”
Sandalwood shuddered. While Sweet Leaf’s orange-flavoured, organic tea tasted pretty good, the last time he tried it, he and Wallflower spent the whole day running to the bathroom in an event he later dubbed “Game of Thrones”.
“Don’t say that when Wallflower is around,” Sandalwood said.
“You don’t think she’s gonna stab me just because she eats meat, right?” Sweet Leaf said.
Sandalwood chuckled. “Okay, let’s go with that. If you suddenly disappear and Wallflower offers me a steak, I won’t eat it.”
“Thanks, I guess.” Sweet Leaf finished her tea and got up from her chair. “Are you done with that?”
Sandalwood looked at the kitchen scales. “Upon careful consideration of all the options, I think the battery died.”
“Told you.” Sweet Leaf rolled her eyes. “Where’s Wallflower anyway?”
“Gardening, I hope.” Sandalwood opened the drawer, looking for batteries. “Serious people, paying serious money, placed serious orders. As you may guess, our financial situation is serious right now.”
“Well, it’s the idea that counts,” Sweet Leaf said.
“The ideas don’t pay for college,” Sandalwood shrugged. He opened another drawer, grabbed the batteries and put them in the scales. Then he weighed the old batteries. “How much should those things weigh anyway?” he asked.
Sweet Leaf decided to ignore his questions. Instead, she looked out the window. “Seems Wallflower is back. I can hear that ridiculous truck of hers.”
Indeed, a few minutes later, Wallflower walked into the house. She threw her mud-stained boots into the corner and kissed Sweet Leaf and Sandalwood. “I brought the crops,” she said. “About a shitton of organically-sourced weed, almost ready to be sold. Lemon Zest ordered five kilograms.”
Sandalwood froze. “Why’d someone in their right mind need five kilograms?”
“I don’t care, as long as she pays in cash,” Wallflower replied. “Sandalwood will deliver it to her.”
“I’ll do that,” Sweet Leaf said. “We were just talking about how after a while in a poly relationship it starts showing that we have a type. And let’s say that Sandalwood’s type happens to be–”
“Green-haired mental fuck-ups?” Wallflower chuckled. “But then, that’s also your type.”
“Yeah, but I can negotiate with capitalists,” Sweet Leaf said. “He’d probably offer her a discount.”
“And you’ll try to seduce her.” Sandalwood rolled his eyes. “But when I wanted to invite Cherry Crash over…”
Sweet Leaf winced. “She eats meat.”
“So do I,” Wallflower replied. “Also, before you go on a tirade on how meat is murder, I need you two to get your asses to my track. I won’t be carrying all of this myself.”
“You’re a meat-eating minority in this household,” Sweet Leaf muttered.
Wallflower looked at Sandalwood, who shrugged. She sighed and got up from her chair. Sandalwood and Sweet Leaf followed her outside, to a battered Chevrolet 3100 that some seven decades ago may have been off-white, but now was mostly rust-coloured, and looked too dilapidated to attract cops' attention. The back of the truck was filled with stuffed bags and several cardboard boxes.
“You know what?” Sandalwood said. “Drama Letter doesn’t eat meat. If we invite her and Cherry Crash–”
“What is it, gotta catch ‘em all?” Wallflower asked. “Not to mention reverse discrimination of vegetarians?” She grabbed a bag and gave it to Sandalwood. “Carry it inside and come back for more.” She handed another bag to Sweet Leaf and grabbed one of the cardboard boxes.
They walked up the stairs, Sweet Leaf grumbling while dragging a bag on the ground.
“Careful with this,” Wallflower said. “It’s the best weed I ever managed to grow and you’re getting dust on it.”
Sweet Leaf turned towards Wallflower. “Why aren’t you carrying the bag, then?”
“I already had to put them in the truck, duh,” Wallflower replied. “Also, Sandalwood, Drama Letter wouldn’t work out. This girl is insane.”
“I thought this was kinda the point?” Sweet Leaf asked. “I mean, the first time we met, you heckled my presentation about Earth and told me to kill myself.”
“For the record, I yelled ‘save the planet, kill yourself’ and it wasn’t the first time.” Wallflower smirked. “It’s the first time you remember that.”
Sweet Leaf raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“Nothing,” Wallflower replied. “Drama Letter is a different kind of insane.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “She tried to sell art for a living.”
Sandalwood chuckled, nearly dropping the bag with weed. “Did it work?”
“Not really, and she’s still too proud for furry commissions, selling adoptables, and doing the AI stuff.” Wallflower shrugged. “Actually, I’m not sure if her vegetarianism isn’t just being poor.”
They walked into the kitchen. Sandalwood and Sweet Leaf put their bags on the counter, while Wallflower opened the cardboard box. “Mylar bags,” she said. “I had Drama Letter design the logo that’s printed on them, for brand recognition.”
“Getting serious, eh?” Sweet Leaf smirked. “Also, Wallflower, people become vegetarians for other reasons than being poor. Do you know how bad the meat industry is for the environment?”
“This is why my favourite dish is venison stew,” Wallflower replied. “You didn’t want to eat it either and I shot that deer myself.”
“Well, at least now we know who killed Bambi,” Sandalwood said.
Wallflower smirked. "I used to make the deer forget humans were dangerous. They're easier to shoot when they're standing there making a face like Derpy."
“That’s too far, dude,” Sandalwood said. “Who’d want to shoot Derpy?”
“Not me,” Wallflower replied. “I’d tell her not to come to school. Also, I tried to skin the deer myself, but I threw up.” She turned to Sweet Leaf. “Come on, we have more weed to bring here.”
“I’m appalled,” Sweet Leaf whispered, her face pale.
“Hi, Appalled, I’m Wallflower.” Wallflower rolled her eyes. “Come on, we need to make money to support your organic vegan food addiction.”
“My addiction?” Sweet Leaf asked. “Who spent half of their income last month on Pokemon merch?”
“I just had to have that Pokeball bra.” Wallflower shrugged. “Okay, remember to weigh each package, alright? Stuff for Lemon Zest comes in glass jars, since she buys weed in bulk.”
“Wait, those are weed jars?” Sandalwood asked, frowning.
“Yes, and if you filled them with something else, I’m gonna bite your dick off.” Wallflower smiled at Sandalwood. “Why are you asking?”
“Just joking around.” Sandalwood grabbed the scales and weighed his first portion of weed.
Sweet Leaf poked the bags unsurely. “Are those plastic?”
“It’s mylar,” Wallflower replied.
“That’s still plastic,” Sweet Leaf replied.
“Yes, and we’re not having this conversation again.” Wallflower rolled her eyes.
“Which one?” Sandalwood asked. “The one where Sweet Leaf threw a tantrum over you taking a plastic bag at the store or the one when we tried breathplay and it went all kinds of wrong?”
“Both,” Wallflower replied. “Though mostly the former.” She smiled at Sandalwood. “Sea turtles, mate.”
“Hey, I was being serious about the turtles!” Sweet Leaf exclaimed. “Also, I was the only one who listened when we were taught CPR and this is the only reason everyone made it out alive from that whole breathplay idea.”
“Best orgasm of my life and as a bonus, I woke up with you giving me the kiss of life.” Wallflower hugged Sweet Leaf and kissed her. “So let’s not talk about plastic bags right now, okay?”
“Okay,” Sweet Leaf replied, weighing a portion of weed.
"At least she hates latex, too, and I'm not allowed to wear a condom," Sandalwood said. “You know what? We could go, like, environmentally friendly. But then we’d do the usual thing people do in such situations.”
“That is?” Wallflower asked.
“Charge more,” Sandalwood replied. “Most of our target group wouldn’t mind.”
“That’s something to consider in the future, when we actually have a customer base,” Wallflower said. “Right now, our selling points are quality and low prices.”
“This sounds less like we’re selling weed and more like we’re selling hamburgers.” Sandalwood turned to Sweet Leaf. “No offence.”
Sweet Leaf chuckled. “Okay, now I wonder who’s the McDonald’s of weed.”
“Not us.” Wallflower closed another bag and added it to a pile on the table.
Sweet Leaf shrugged. "We'll be lucky if we can be the White Castle of weed."
"Oh, I'm hungry.” Sandalwood looked at his stomach. “I could go for a White Castle."
Wallflower raised her eyebrows. “And here I thought I was a masochist.”
"We all know you are." Sweet Leaf smirked and grabbed a jar. "I didn't think Crystal Prep guys would be into weed. They all look like they'd be more into meth."
"That's for learning, but they also have to unwind," Sandalwood said. "Hmm, what if we started selling them meth?"
Wallflower shook her head. "Great idea. All their usual suppliers would put us in concrete shoes and dump us in the river. Also, I don't know anyone who'd be good enough at chemistry."
"Twilight?" Sandalwood asked.
"Good enough and immoral enough," Wallflower replied.
Sweet Leaf screwed the jar shut. "Twilight can be pretty immoral, sometimes. Just ask Timber Spruce."
“What happened to Timber Spruce?” Wallflower asked.
Sweet Leaf shrugged. “Something about his sister and tentacles. He was never the same again.”
“Do you think Gloriosa can still sprout tentacles?” Wallflower asked.
Sandalwood cleared his throat. “I know where this is going and I don’t agree.”
“To what?” Wallflower smiled in the most innocent way a fledgeling weed farmer could muster.
“To a foursome with Gloriosa,” Sandalwood replied. “I’ve seen your porn stash and I know what to expect.”
Wallflower blushed. “Such a thought has never crossed my mind, but now that you mention it…”
Sweet Leaf smacked Wallflower in the back of the head. “Back to the horny jail, you perverted seedling.”
Soon, despite constant bickering, Wallflower's most recent harvest had been packed and put in the back of her vintage truck, covered with tarpaulin. Wallflower sat at the wheel and turned on the ancient straight-six engine.
“Before you say anything, this truck keeps on trucking since 1954,” Wallflower said to Sweet Leaf. “Its carbon footprint doesn’t exist. By the way, I need to call Leaf Spring. The old lady needs a valve job.”
“I don’t think he’s gonna give you a discount just because you’re fucking his sister,” Sandalwood said.
“I wasn’t counting on that,” Wallflower replied, driving out of the backyard and onto the street. “Leaf Spring is the only guy in town who can repair the old Stovebolts.” She smirked at Sweet Leaf. “Funny how some siblings are so different from each other.”
“Isn’t your sister in Trixie’s band?” Sweet Leaf asked.
Wallflower nodded. “She is.”
Sandalwood raised his eyebrows. “Wait a minute, which of Trixie’s bandmates is your sister?”
“Fuchsia,” Wallflower replied. “And before you ask, we’re not doing the twins foursome, unless any of you wants to spend the whole night listening to how awesome Trixie is.”
“We can always gag her,” Sandalwood said.
Wallflower rolled her eyes. “No gagging my sister. She won’t be interested anyway. Trixie's dick is bigger than yours.” She smacked the steering wheel of the truck. “Yeah, definitely needs a valve job.”
“When we get rich, I’ll buy you a Cybertruck,” Sweet Leaf said.
“I’m not swapping the old lady for some electric crap that isn’t even produced yet,” Wallflower replied. “I've had it since I sold my first batch of weed.”
“How did you even sell it?” Sweet Leaf asked. “It’s not like you can just print posters.”
“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Wallflower replied. “Well, at first I made people forget that I sold them weed.” She smiled sheepishly. “Same with cops. But then I had to get smart since, well, none of my customers remembered me.”
Sandalwood looked at Sweet Leaf. “Do you think she ever did that Men in Black thing to us?”
“But of course,” Sweet Leaf replied.
Sandalwood shuddered. “Creepy.”
“Anyway, it turns out you don’t have to own a cat to put ‘missing cat’ posters everywhere,” Wallflower said. “In this case, it was a black stray with absolutely no distinguishing features, called Reefer. I found a pic of a black cat on the internet, wrote that Reefer doesn’t react to his name, and that he weighs about three kilograms.”
“Did it work?” Sandalwood asked. “Also, I’d like to know if you ever–”
“I sold three kilograms of weed in two weeks,” Wallflower said. “Also, seven idiots brought me stray cats. They live in my garden now.”
“Why would those people live in your garden?” Sandalwood asked.
Wallflower sighed. “Now I’m surprised you didn’t bring me a cat…”
“I’m sorry, I forgot my sarcasm sign at home.” Sandalwood rolled his eyes. “So, about the memory-thingy stuff–”
“Shut up, we’re almost there.” Wallflower drove off the road and into the large open field where the music festival was going to take place. The scene was under construction, but apart from that, not much was happening; there were a few tents and food trucks here and there and the drying grass made for a rather depressing sight. Wallflower parked the truck and grabbed the phone from her pocket.
“So, these are the cats.” She showed Sandalwood and Sweet Leaf a photo of seven cats; six of them black and one ginger with white paws and belly. “Reefer, Four-Twenty, Ganja, Blunt, Magic Dragon, Biggy, and Adderall.”
“Why Adderall?” Sweet Leaf asked.
“The girls who brought her wanted to sell me some.” Wallflower replied. “What happened to this world? People bring me cats and try to sell me prescription drugs.”
“I think I see Lemon Zest,” Sweet Leaf said. “Or at least some green-haired mental fuck-up.”
“Yeah, that’s her.” Wallflower grabbed a bag with weed. “Free sample,” she said. “Let’s go.”
They left the truck and walked to Lemon Zest, who was sitting on a blanket with a tall, thin girl with long, purple-ish hair styled in a long ponytail held together with a scrunchie adorned with cranberry-shaped ornaments. Her skin had a yellowish hue and she had a lot of freckles covering her face and bare arms.
As soon as they approached, the girl looked at Wallflower. “I remember you.”
“That’s not something I hear often,” Wallflower said.
“Oh, come on, you look like a Christmas tree cosplaying as Freddy Krueger,” the girl said. “Also, my sister was in your class back at school. Her name is Sweeten Sour.”
Sandalwood nodded. “Right, you’re Sour Sweet, aren’t you?” He turned to Lemon Zest. “Can we trust her?”
“Of course,” Lemon replied, taking off her headphones. “She helped me bring my weed tester here.”
“Weed tester?” Sweet Leaf asked. “You brought a weed tester? Where are they?”
“We got her out of a sewer pipe in the morning and she complained about her back being sore. Also, she’s throwing up somewhere.” Sour Sweet turned to Wallflower. “I’m surprised you don’t remember me. I brought you your missing cat.”
“Really?” Wallflower asked. “Which o– I mean, thanks.”
“I mean, I saw that missing cat poster and found it funny that the cat was called Reefer.” Sour Sweet shrugged. “Maybe because I had a chemistry exam and a biology exam on the same day, so I ate Sugarcoat’s whole supply of Adderall and couldn’t sleep for six days and then I found this sweet little furball meowing under my window like a crazy motherfucker. I missed it with my bow, so I caught it and brought it to you.”
“Yeah, now I remember,” Wallflower said.
“You picked a really bad photo,” Sour Sweet muttered. “The cat completely didn’t look like itself in it.”
“What a story, Sour.” Lemon rolled her eyes. “Now, back to business. Did you bring it?”
Wallflower showed her the bag for a split second. “There’s more in the truck. Wanna try?”
“Try it and then pay you while high so you can rip me off?” Lemon shook her head. “There’s a reason I brought an expert here.”
“Where’s your expert?” Sandalwood asked. “Hope she didn’t drown in vomit.”
“Nah, I see her there.” Lemon gestured at someone.
“Oh, it’s Vinyl,” Sandalwood said, seeing the lanky DJ approaching them. Her hair was messier than usual and her skin was sickly pale. She staggered slightly as she walked and lacked her headphones. “Hi, Vinyl. They ruined your hangover, huh?”
Vinyl nodded.
“Sewer pipe?” Sandalwood asked.
Vinyl nodded again, winced, and rubbed her back.
“You need to chill out, dude.” Sandalwood shook his head, looking at the DJ’s lanky body.
Vinyl frowned and lifted her thumb.
“Yeah, we all know you’re fine,” Sweet Leaf said. “Test this weed for us and we’ll leave you in peace.”
“Well, at least until we need you again.” Sandalwood frowned, looking at Vinyl. “Tell that British girlfriend of yours to get you some proper breakfast.”
Vinyl flipped him off and took the bag from Wallflower. She produced a suspiciously large pipe from her pocket and methodically filled it with weed.
“Who does she think she is? Gandalf?” Sweet Leaf muttered.
Vinyl, still without hurry, grabbed a lighter and lit the pipe. Wallflower stepped back.
“What’s up?” Sandalwood asked.
“I never smoked in my life,” Wallflower replied. “Second-hand smoke may fuck me up.”
“Don’t worry, there won’t be much smoke.” Sour Sweet pointed at Vinyl, who took a large puff from the pipe. The lenses of her glasses lit up and she looked at the pipe unsurely. She then smiled and flashed a peace sign at them before promptly passing out.
“I think that seals the deal,” Lemon Zest said. “We’re taking your entire stock.”
Wallflower pointed at Vinyl. “Shouldn’t we first take care of her?”
“I’ll do that,” Sour Sweet said. “She weighs, like, ninety pounds at best.” She leaned over Vinyl and chuckled. “Good news, she’s not dead! If I gave her the kiss of life, I’d be baked too.”
“Yeah, tragic.” Lemon sighed. “So now, about the price…”
“No discounts,” Sweet Leaf said.
“I’m buying five kilograms,” Lemon Zest replied. “I guess I deserve a discount?”
Sweet Leaf furrowed her eyebrows. “You’re already getting it for cheap. Also, you’re gonna sell it at the festival and make twice as much. It's the best quality, no additives, natural fertiliser, and your expert went straight to Wonderland.”
“Then why didn’t you sell it yourselves?” Lemon asked.
Sandalwood shrugged. “We can’t afford a lawyer if we get caught.”
“My uncle is a lawyer,” Sour Sweet said, trying to prop Vinyl against her backpack so the DJ would sit on the blanket without falling. “He’s good, as long as he takes the meds. And he only sometimes comes to the court naked. During COVID, he would do Zoom court naked all the time and just digitally add the suit.”
“I think I’ll pass,” Wallflower replied. “Also, I’m hungry and this may take a while. Sandalwood, are you coming with me?”
“I’m not hu–” Sandalwood groaned when Wallflower kicked his ankle. “Okay, I am a bit hungry. We’ll be right back.”
They walked to the food trucks. Sandalwood looked around, wondering which cuisine to choose, but it seemed Wallflower already made a choice.
“Two Philly cheesesteak sandwiches,” she said, stopping by one of the trailers.
Sandalwood cleared his throat. “I don’t eat me–”
“Sweet Leaf isn’t around, you don’t have to hide,” Wallflower said.
“Right.” Sandalwood smirked and grabbed his sandwich. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“Do I look like Freddy Krueger in this sweater?” Wallflower asked.
Sandalwood chuckled and hugged her. “Of course not. You’re lacking a hat.”
“Yeah.” Wallflower took a bite of her sandwich and took her sweater off. “It’s getting warm anyway.”
Sandalwood raised his eyebrows, staring at the t-shirt with a cartoony Earth on fire, captioned with ‘We’re fucked’. “Is that’s Sweet Leaf’s t-shirt?” he asked.
“Maybe.” Wallflower shrugged. “She keeps stealing mine.”
“Only when she feels like wearing something with anime waifus.” Sandalwood shook his head. “But I guess it’s not why you took me here.”
Wallflower nodded, blushing. “I mean… Don’t you think it’s all getting too serious? First we thought it’d be cheaper to become roommates, then we went past roommates and straight to bed–”
“Not straight to bed and not just bed,” Sandalwood said. “Sometimes you’re a bit prosaic, Wally. It’s usually followed by crazy ideas my spine still hurts from.”
“Okay, nevermind.” Wallflower rolled her eyes. “My point is, now we’re selling weed and Sweet Leaf is arguing about the price. Don’t you think it’s getting a bit too far?”
“Do you want to remove Sweet Leaf from the equation?” Sandalwood asked.
“I didn’t say that!” Wallflower exclaimed. “Wait… Do you?”
“No, not really,” Sandalwood replied. “I mean, that thing about plastic bags…”
“She throws tantrums whenever we go to the restaurant,” Wallflower added.
“Her cooking is… not optimal.” Sandalwood took another bite of his sandwich. “I once caught something from this rice thing she made.”
“That’s why I’m doing the cooking,” Wallflower said. “But then, on the other hand…”
“What?” Sandalwood asked.
“I love her.” Wallflower blushed even deeper.
“Me too,” Sandalwood said. “Also, come on, at least she’s not Paisley. We broke up after she said that our star signs weren’t compatible.”
Wallflower laughed. “Were they?”
“My star sign says people who believe in star signs are full of shit,” Sandalwood replied. “Also, we have to talk to Sweet Leaf about that whole weed deal. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable…”
“Thanks,” Wallflower said. “Well, I don’t want to be a spoilsport either, but then, I really don’t want to get arrested. I didn't care when it was just me, but now…”
“It’s gonna be alright,” Sandalwood replied. “I mean, what can possibly go wrong?”
Three days later, Wallflower was rather rudely awakened by the sound of her phone. She opened her eyes. Sweet Leaf muttered something in her sleep when Wallflower reached over her and grabbed her phone.
“Lemon?” she asked, picking up. “What do you want? It’s 5 AM.”
Lemon replied something, but her voice sounded very weak and there was some odd reverb to it.
“Where are you?” Wallflower exclaimed. “I can barely hear you. Ah, in the toilet? Couldn’t you call me later?” She listened for a moment. “What do you mean you can’t get out?” She frowned. “The police? Ah, CDC. Why CDC?”
Suddenly, she froze. On the other side of the bed, Sandalwood turned away from her; still, it didn’t stop him from getting woken up by Wallflower’s next words.
“What do you mean by ‘antibiotic-resistant Salmonella strain from weed fertiliser’!?” Wallflower exclaimed, sitting up in the bed.
