So, Canada had legalized marijuana, and he had wound up getting a job with one of the legal grow-ops after graduating from Agricultural College. Given the ‘entertainment’ habits of some of his dorm-mates, it was a surprise that it was him, rather than one of the 4:20 cadre.
He was pleased with the safety equipment his employer provided – gloves, coveralls, respirator masks. His hometown had once been the center of a tobacco-growing area. Each year there had been at least one case of death from nicotine poisoning. Here, about the worst thing that happened, was a nice contact high buzz.
Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.
It’s a good thing that I went back to proof-read one more time. Spell-Check didn’t catch that I had titled this “Flesh” Fiction. That’s a whole different genre! 😳 🙄
Bob was the weirdo who bought an Edsel – the Ford sucking a lemon.
He lived a mile outside town, past my house and the hospital, where the speed limit dropped from 50 MPH, to 30. Never content to do merely 50, he screamed in at 80. Accustomed to standard transmissions, he used the automatic, to slow down for the hospital zone.
Equipped with a Pushbutton Transmission, the controls were located on the steering wheel hub. One day, Bob inadvertently poked ‘Reverse’, instead of ‘Low.’ That was 1960. They cleaned up the oil, but parts are still falling from the sky.
Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site, and use her weekly photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story