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Brownie Points

Maybe I should run away and join the circus...

Do you ever just think about cults? Like, running away and joining one, as if they're the latest profit-seeking circus in town? Sometimes I just got cults on the brain.

Going out late at night can be a bit of a daunting task. Particularly in my neck of these here urban jungle woods. I really hate it when people stand right outside the door to my apartment complex. It's always this super awkward moment of opening the door just enough to make your presence known, but not enough without hitting their back so hard, they accuse you of premeditated malice aforethought aggravated assault.

I'm particularly hesitant to go outside and risk an encounter, because of the email. Not ten hours prior, every member of the complex received a very serious message in their inbox regarding the entering and exiting of people on the premises. It's paramount that we don't let anyone in, whom we don’t already know. If someone's trying to get let in, and they don’t have a key, then they don’t live in the building. It’s as simple as that.

Remember, you're going to the store to get brownie mix. I tentatively open the door, and as awkwardly as possible have to shut the door on the guy trying to get buzzed in. I pushed it closed while he complained that he lived in the building, but oh so conveniently left his keys in his apartment. A likely story. What do you take me for? A rube that was born yesterday? Wait. Don't answer that.

And even if what you're spitting at me are words dunked in truth syrup, the fact that you left your key inside of your apartment is neither my fault, nor my problem. Also, when was the last time you checked your email? Is it possible for two people to both be supercilious at the exact same time in the exact same conflict?

If we knowingly violate this rule, we'll promptly be served an Eviction Notice. Effective immediately.

I'm hoping the third-floor people that got kicked to the curb this morning were my direct upstairs neighbors. Why? Because they have incredibly loud and constant sex, up until all hours of the night. Who needs an alarm clock when I can just be rudely awoken from my much-needed beauty rest? How? Well, when the tenant above me startles yours truly back into conscious by the shrill sound of her having supposedly the most amazing and intense orgasm of her life. That’s how. I did not need to wake from my slumber at 1:45AM.

If the person trying to convince me to let them in is an actual member of the complex and they also happen to be one half of my new morn' warning bell, then I definitely don't want to let them in. While perusing the store, I grab my needed components for those chewy, gooey, chocolate squares. While idling in the line to pay, I notice a clear glass stand of pamphlets, asking through fancy cursive if I'm interested in taking a free personality test. Curiosity piques my interest, so I rather zealously grab two pamphlets. One for safety in case I mess up.

I walk back down the street with a slower gait than usual, for fear of encountering the mysterious stranger at the front door. Good news is—he no longer solicited himself outside. Bad news is-- I have no idea if he’ll remember my face. Within the safe confines and cozy comforts of my miniscule apartment, I take a proper gander at the pamphlet. I chuckle at the thought that this sounds like a weird personality test to join a cult. Am I up to snuff to be signed up for some regularly scheduled brainwashing? Maybe grabbing those pamphlets was a bad idea. I think back to the stranger at the door. Did he in fact mark my face, but for a darker and more sinister purpose? Was this the cult’s attempt to hook me in as one of their own? I shudder at the very thought.

I do my best to block these racing thoughts from my mind. I think back to what the previous Mary Jane always said to me, before passing the Lakewood Cannabis baton-torch to me: “Always focus on the work.” They had a great post talking about cookies and cannabutter. Wise words from the old guard. I look down at my current recipe in my hands and instantly feel more confident and engaged.

Easy Cannabis Brownies:

• 3⁄4 cup (90 grams) of all-purpose flour: white flour works best

• 1⁄2 cup (42 grams) of unsweetened cocoa powder

• 1⁄2 teaspoon (3 grams) of salt

• 1⁄2 teaspoon (1 gram) of baking powder: don't confuse this for baking soda

• 1⁄2 cup (113 grams) Cannabutter: results may vary depending on the strength of your Cannabutter

• 1 cup (200 grams) of white granulated sugar

• 1⁄2 cup (50 grams) of brown sugar: if you don't have any, use 11⁄2 cups of white sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 1⁄2 teaspoon (4 grams) of vanilla extract

While waiting for the brownies to bake, I boot up my PS5 and sign onto Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. Sometimes I just need to vent my frustrations with some intense multiplayer while zoning in on a custom-made “Angry Music Playlist”. For at least an hour, my fears and worries go away. Until I hear an angry rap at the door. I can’t pause my game because it’s online, so I fear being “Away from Keyboard” and getting killed to go answer the mysterious knock.

Hold the phone. Did the cult recruiter get inside the building? Was he lying in wait to dig his claws into my skin? Nope, just a neighbor. But also, a neighbor who came by complaining that my music was too loud. At 9PM. On a Sunday. If anything, I deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for my restraint in that conversation.

In living in this building for over three years now, I’ve never once had a noise complaint. Until now.

Here's a novel idea, maybe why don't you go and harass the people that play music and laugh loudly at undoubtably unfunny comedy shows well past 1AM, whose all-time favourite pastime is Adult Wrestling & Bumping Uglies so loud that they keep breaking The Sound Barrier. But yeah, sure, I'm the problem.

Maybe I should run away and join that circus after all.


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