By Mike Adams
There is one at every party. It seems that just about the time the second joint starts getting passed around the room, the girlfriend of the guy that nobody really wanted there in the first place goes quiet. Her situation is a little suspect, as everyone notices that she keeps feeling her chest from time to time. But the consensus is that as long as the “friendlies” are still having fun, all is well and good in the world.
Then the dab machine comes out. That’s when the quiet girl, despite knowing deep down inside that she is having some difficulty keeping up with the group’s rotation, decides she is going to try smoking high-powered concentrates for the first time.
Although the boyfriend protests, the cheers from the others around the room are enough to convince her to go for it. They will soon regret offering this level of encouragement. As soon as she blows out the hit, she looks as though she has been shot in the heart at close range. Not only is she gripping her chest like Fred Sanford in one of his “I’m coming to Georgia” moments, but her breathing is rapid and shallow and she’s got this look on her face of someone who is convinced that they are about to meet their maker.
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