Smoke and Needles

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She was getting ready to stick big needles in my arm.  She asked me if I had smoked pot before I came in. She said, “Your eyes are bloodshot, you smell like pot, and you haven’t stopped talking since you sat down.”  I asked if she also worked for the FBI or the city police.  I told her nicely that what I do in the privacy of my own home is confidential.  She stuck the needles in, and I think it may have hurt more than it normally does.
I think more clearly when I am stoned. The trouble is, a good buzz lasts me, at the most, a half hour.  Then I revert back to my quiet, slow thinking self.
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