This all started about a week ago. I was homeless at the time, and carried around my most basic of needs in a backpack. I had my cellphone, clothes, and my bong. Well, I chill at a Casino with my friends, except it just so happends my dad knows I hang around there as well. There for I leave my backpack outside in some bushes so if he happens to find me, my bong has a chance to make it.
Well he did find me one night, so he gave me a ride to my moms house. My mom has no car so I'm stuck at her house for an entire week until today. I get a ride from her friend to this casino because it was on the way to where she was going anyway. I go to the bushes and my shits gone
It was the shittiest, most porcelain-ist, ugliest bong I've ever seen. But it was special because every single person I've smoked pot with has hit it. Many of them have moved away and quit, and it's a nice reminder of some great memories. Well it's all fucked now and I can't do a thing about it.
Just needed to get it off my mind, anyone else lost a beloved piece?
Well he did find me one night, so he gave me a ride to my moms house. My mom has no car so I'm stuck at her house for an entire week until today. I get a ride from her friend to this casino because it was on the way to where she was going anyway. I go to the bushes and my shits gone
It was the shittiest, most porcelain-ist, ugliest bong I've ever seen. But it was special because every single person I've smoked pot with has hit it. Many of them have moved away and quit, and it's a nice reminder of some great memories. Well it's all fucked now and I can't do a thing about it.
Just needed to get it off my mind, anyone else lost a beloved piece?
