The Paranoia of a Pot-addled Mind...

It was only a matter of time before the police arrested me. I knew one day I’d arrive home to my apartment and walk right into a sting operation. While I had been away at class, cops would arrive with a warrant and bust down my door with one of those portable battering rams. They’d fly in the cast of CSI: Miami and they’ll do litmus tests in a dark lab with the plant material they find in my carpet to confirm that its pot. Then when I got home I’d flick on the lights and a SWAT team would jump out from under the couch and from inside of the refrigerator like the Orlando Police Department was throwing me a surprise birthday party, but it wasn’t even my birthday and I don’t think their guns shoot streamers and fun-size Snickers.

They finally would have busted the biggest marijuana cartel in building seventeen or at least apartment C. They’d interview my roommates who’d tell the channel six news reporters, “I never saw this side of Forrest before. Our prayers will be with him.” I’d bring dishonor to my family’s name. Court TV would make a movie about me and after weeks of negotiation with his manager they’d get Zac Effron to play me. The detectives will call me a mastermind who hid hundreds of milligrams of weed in a safe disguised as a Dr. Pepper can. They’d get Jerry Orbach as prosecuting attorney and I’d do hard time. I’d be released years later on parole for good behavior and go on inspirational speaking tours to middle school campuses nationwide where I’d weep and tear phone books in half to demonstrate the will power that kicked my drug habit.

It was only a matter of time...