Your Pot Dealer Has A Daughter In The Girl Scouts Day!
She has some cookies that need to be sold.
"Hey man, if I worked in an office it'd be no sweat," he says. "I'd just post the signup sheet on my cubicle, just like the rest of the Dads, and in one day she'd meet her quota for the camping trip. "
He hasn't even sold you your pot yet. You and him are sitting on your bed going over the options in the color brochure spread out across your comforter. He smells terrible. "A lot of people like the Samoas," he says. "But I fucking hate the Samoas."
"Do any girl scouts sell their own cookies anymore?" you ask.
"Are you crazy man? It's too dangerous," he says, while scratching underneath his shirt. He complained to you once that his gun holster itches.
"So I figured," he says. "Who wants cookies more than all the potheads who smoke my shit? You guys are all stoned out of your gourds with the munchies and then in I walk with a chance for you to binge on some snacks and support the futures of a whole lot of little girls."
You say, "But you haven't let me buy my pot yet."
He points to the Thin Mints. "These are fuckin' primo shit. Buy six boxes."
You buy six boxes.
Happy Your Pot Dealer Has A Daughter In The Girl Scouts Day!
