Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Roper 13 - The Drug Hounds

I found L. where I left him the night before: In the hammock under the cherry tree with his portable PS2 on the milk box close to his head.

The wet towel with the two 5 kg  weight discs at each end, was still lying close to the pool: Playing "The Big Blue" was equipment heavy but FUN.

The many soot black pieces of tin foil surrounding the pool spoke their language.

A delicious ganja hangover and the soft morning sun painted the day in a promising color.

I decided to go for buns before I kicked L.`s ass out so he could help me as promised...he OWED me!

He was up already as I returned and we ate delicious morning buns from the Guldbageren bakery further up on the hill we lived on.

The plants were in the spanking new bike shed our landlord built for us, not knowing that the clear plastic sheets he used for roofing turned the sheds into brilliant grow rooms.

All 50 seedlings stood in neat rows, planted in milk cartons with the best compost money could buy.

The weed seemed to thrive in the sheds tropical micro climate.

We carefully packed the goodies into a pair of large bike messenger bags, leftovers from happier times in Copenhagen, and started the hike to the forrest.

This project would take all day, all spots I chose for my attempt to guerilla farm ganja were at least 150 m away from each other...and far away from where any joggers, mountain bikers or the occasional perv usually came.

But he hey, we were both unemployed and had massive amounts of time to our disposal to fulfill my
ambitions to become financial independent.

We hiked along the coast to Halling Forest and it became clear that today would be a scorcher too.

"I`m sorry!" L. suddenly said.

"It`s not your fault big man! Who knew that this psycho bitch would be like that!"

L.`s ex, working at the same place as he did (a prison...of all places...a PRISON....a man with an university degree....these are indeed hard times!) threatened to rat out on us and our little plantation in as she broke up with him (and also got him fired in the process..bitches right?)

Well I rather do this than seeing him taking any shit. 

So we walked and came to the large parking place marking at the beginning of the giant doggy walking field. It was popular since it was one of the few places where you could let your dog run free.

"Many cars today!" L. said as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

There sure were lots of cars here, and that on a week day. Didnt people had to work??

We took the last turn into the field and there it was where we saw the banner:


"Detector canine? Aren`t those drug dogs?" L. asked as we finally had a clear view on the field and 30-40 drug doggy handlers and their dogs all starred at us.

SCRUTINIZING us as we walked closer with 50 ganja seedlings on our backs.

"Kepp walking dammit, keep...WALKING!" I hissed, trying to smile an innocent smile.

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