Imagining going out into the woods to smoke a joint, only for Smokey the Bear to emerge from the shadows and smack it out of my hand with all the violence his bear claws can muster, a stern look of disapproval written across his face. He then hands me a bag of weed gummies before returning to the darkness from whence he came.
I tell this story to people later, but they keep insisting I got the order of events mixed up. I know what I saw!