“Perfect day for a dip, eh?” My girlfriend looms over me while I roll a fat joint. “Huh?” I look up, “What’d you say?” She points to the in-ground pool lying ahead of us “Perfect day for a dip, huh?” I look up at her “Yeah baby, but let’s get high first.”


I finish rolling a marker-sized jay filled with Purple Kush, “Got a light?”

Purple Kush is a hardcore Indica strain, a cross between Purple Afghan and Hindu Kush, the Purps’ is great for relaxing, and that’s exactly what was planned for the pool. Adult beverages in hand and floating chairs in the water; I light up the sweet earthy tasting bud. I inhale the smoothness and cough out the high.

Rush is blasting out of the sound system off of the deck, my girlfriend and I twirl around slowly in the water on our floats, sipping beer and passing the joint between each other. The Purple Kush has a very “classic” herb aroma and taste, earthy and sweet like a piece of gum that’s been dropped in the mud and rinsed off with the hose.

The bud I got was grown organically and with love, a dark shade of green and dark hairs embody the powerful potion that resides within. It was hard not to go into a complete coma while puffing on this lovely strain and relaxing in the pool.

Three songs into Rush’s Greatest Hits’ and we’ve smoked the lung candle down to a roach, with the beers needing a refill, I quickly make my way back to dry land and hunt down the cooler. “Roll another!” I nod. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Another perfect blimp,” I sit myself back in the floating chair. Creating waves while I sat, the wake made me fumble with the lighter and tragically we had a man overboard. “Ian are you for real?” My girlfriend splashes water at me. I throw my hands up in the air “It happens babe, chill; I’ve got another one in my jeans.”

I make my way out of the pool and as soon as I put one foot on the wet cement, I hear the loud thud’ of the large front door opening and closing. I can see through the tempered glass windows; I watch as a man in is early fifties walks through the entrance into the main hall. I look over at my lady pouring a sweaty beer in her red solo cup. “Uh.. babe?.. BABE!” My girlfriend puts down her beer and peers through her sunglasses at me.

“Ian, what the are you bitching about?” Before I can make a sound with my voice I hear the words I knew would inevitably fall upon us. The man in his early fifties comes crashing through the screen door on the porch. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?! AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING NAKED IN MY POOL?!?”

Love, The Strainger

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