But honest to God, I have no idea what they're talking about. It's like a puzzle. Flower? Is that a new word for buds? Bud is not a flower. CO2 oil? What's that? It doesn't make sense.
There I was walking along one bright spring morning and I mean bright. It was late morning and warming right up. I passed some kind of flower box that smelled like a little old lady spilled a bottle of Avon all over it and I continued along my way. I was trying a new route. I passed under a tree in bloom that filled the whole block with a wondrously light pleasantly exotic floral scent. And then overtaken by the stronger smell of roses. I turned the corner and now I'm in full sunlight beating down. The spring aromas cleared off and I kind of missed them and I hoped they'd pick up again. I wanted the flower smells to keep going. I looked around for patches of vegetation, nothing but asphalt and parking lot and tall weeds at the edges of buildings. Then I smelled it. Pow, right in the nose. A skunk. Big and awful as H-E-double stinkstacks and acrid the kind of skunk smell that jabs your nose and stings inside and tells you, "get out!"
How could the skunk get there? Up from Cherry Creek? It must be. Man, that's a long way for a skunk. It would have to cross Speer. The closer I got to the squat building the stronger the smell. I went inside to warn them.
An attractive svelte sylph-like fairy of woman attractively dressed was behind a counter with a thick glass front, an office cut from a corner in a large inexpensively decorated but still very clean waiting room. And that's all there is except for two doors with electronic locks. A man in his twenties was inside the triangular space sitting in an office chair rubbing the inside of a large jar with a rag. They both greeted me pleasantly. Seemingly eager to have someone walk in. As if they were trained to be instantly pleasant.
"You guys got a skunk hanging around outside your building."
The man and the woman looked at each other and laughed but didn't say anything.
"I mean it."
They laughed more.
"It's really strong!"
The man answered. "It's probably us."
"What?"
"Here, smell this jar."
5 comments:
April 20 is Der Fuhrer's bday.
Well, the weather is always good.
Cherry Creek is kind of nifty because the word "kriek" is Flemish for a certain kind of cherry.
The nasty aroma of skunk weed drifts and permeates. I have a neighbor who regularly smokes it out on the patio. There are also plenty of skunks around.
I no longer differentiate.
Finally I understood why they call it skunk it does smell exactly the same. But this is raw marijuana not burning marijuana that's what's so crazy. It's incredibly strong, so much that it permeates the whole area around the building and hangs in still air, just from having their store buds, not a whole warehouse.
Speaking of April 20th being Schicklegruber's birthday, I just learned that Earth Day falls on V.I. Lenin's birthday. Coincidence? I think nawt.
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