Chapter 17
Carlos stepped into his dispensary, the faint smell of weed already hanging in the air like an old friend. With a grin, he made his way behind the counter, grabbing his bong from its usual spot. Without missing a beat, he packed a fresh bowl, leaned back in his chair, and lit up. The bubbling sound filled the quiet shop as he took a long rip, exhaling with satisfaction. "Ahhh, nothing like a wake-and-bake to start the day," he muttered, adjusting the TV remote to fire up the latest Hulu series playing in the background—The Witcher, starring Idris Elba as Geralt and Samuel L. Jackson as Vesemir.
Ben Quackflack, his white lady duck, waddled out from the back room as if on cue, giving an approving quack. Carlos glanced down at her with a fond smile. "Morning, princess," he greeted, tapping a little ash into the tray. Ben flapped her wings and strutted around like she owned the place, her beady eyes scanning the floor for crumbs. In the background, the TV droned on with the sounds of sword clashing and Samuel L. Jackson’s unmistakable voice. Carlos chuckled to himself as Vesemir laid down some intense lines with more swagger than any Witcher had a right to.
Carlos reached over to the counter and hit play on his curated playlist—mostly classic rock, with a little bit of reggae and hip-hop mixed in. As the familiar sound of Led Zeppelin kicked in, he took another rip from the bong, letting the smoke curl from his lips as he leaned back in his chair. The shop was quiet for now, the TV and the faint music creating a laid-back atmosphere. Littlefoot, his iguana, lounged lazily in the large tank at the back of the shop, occasionally glancing up when the sunlight hit him just right. Ben Quackflack waddled by, giving the tank a quick inspection as she always did, checking on her scaly friend.
The door chimed as a couple of regulars shuffled in, nodding to Carlos as they made their way to the counter. "Morning, bro," one of them said, eyes already scanning the selection. Carlos gave them a lazy wave, leaning back with a grin. "Morning, boys. Help yourselves. I just got a new shipment in—some premium strains." He motioned toward the jars behind him, still holding the bong in his hand. The customers grinned, clearly excited. One of them paused to look at the TV. "Yo, is that the new Witcher? Idris as Geralt? That’s wild." Carlos laughed. "You know it, man. And Samuel L. Jackson as Vesemir—dude, they’re killing it."
One of the regulars pointed at a jar labeled Unga Bunga and raised an eyebrow. "What’s this one, man?" Carlos grinned, leaning forward. "That right there is Unga Bunga, strong indica. It'll knock you right out, perfect for when you need to chill." The customer nodded appreciatively. Another customer glanced at a jar labeled Falcon Punch. "And this?" he asked. Carlos chuckled. "Ah, Falcon Punch. That’s a 32% sativa, strong stuff. It'll have you feeling like you could punch through a wall." Just then, Ben Quackflack waddled by and quacked loudly. Carlos looked down at her with a grin. "Yeah, Ben, you're right. Falcon Punch is a great choice."
The regulars laughed as Carlos handed over the jars, watching Ben waddle back to her favorite spot by the counter. "You should let Ben pick strains more often," one of them joked, and Carlos grinned. "She’s got good taste. Princess knows her stuff." He took another hit from the bong and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift toward the ceiling. One of the customers sat down on the old couch in the corner, eyes glued to the TV as Geralt swung his sword through a swarm of monsters. "Man, this show is something else," he muttered. Carlos nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it’s a trip. Samuel’s dropping some serious wisdom as Vesemir."
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As the shop settled into its usual rhythm, Carlos kicked back and let the music wash over him. The smell of fresh bud mixed with the sound of Led Zeppelin and the action scenes from The Witcher. It wasn’t long before the door chimed again, and in walked Steve, a regular with a head full of conspiracy theories and wild ideas. Steve barely glanced at the TV, his eyes darting around the shop like he was expecting something. “Yo, Carlos,” Steve said, giving Ben a nod. “What’s up, princess?” Ben quacked in response, waddling over to check if Steve had any crumbs for her. Carlos took another slow hit from the bong, exhaled, and gave Steve a nod. “Sup, Steve? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Steve wasted no time, jumping straight into his latest theory. “Carlos, I’m telling you, the Inca cartel is behind everything. They’re running this city, man—maybe even the state.” He leaned in, lowering his voice like someone might be listening. “They’ve got businesses all over paying them off, and the LAPD looks the other way when things go down in certain neighborhoods.” Carlos raised an eyebrow, taking a long drag from the bong as Steve continued. “But here’s the real kicker: they’re controlling the weather. That’s why California never gets rain. And Hollywood? They’re funding it. That’s why you keep seeing those weird symbols in superhero movies, man. It’s all connected.” Carlos exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “You’ve been hitting something strong, Steve.” Ben quacked loudly, and Carlos nodded. “Yeah, Ben’s right. Maybe lay off the conspiracy stuff for a minute.”
Steve wasn’t deterred. “I know it sounds crazy, but think about it. Some local businesses are shutting down or paying up to keep the cartel off their backs. You ever wonder why certain places suddenly close up shop? It’s them, man. And I heard there’s a big shipment coming through the docks soon. I’ve got sources, Carlos.” He glanced around the shop, lowering his voice even more. “This isn’t just some small-time operation—they’ve got connections everywhere.” Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, you’re deep in it today.” He gave Ben a wink. “What do you think, princess? You buying any of this?” Ben quacked nonchalantly, busying herself with crumbs on the floor, while Carlos leaned back in his chair, amused by Steve’s ramblings.
Carlos passed a jar of Falcon Punch to one of the regulars, still chuckling as Steve continued. "I’m telling you, Carlos, I’ve seen things. The LAPD doesn’t touch certain spots because the cartel’s got them in their pockets. It’s all part of the plan, man. They’re untouchable. And I swear, there’s a tunnel system under this city—connected to old Inca temples or something. They move people, drugs, whatever, through it." Carlos waved him off with a grin. “You’ve got too much time on your hands, man. You should be watching this new Witcher series instead. Idris Elba and Samuel L. Jackson are killing it.” Steve just shook his head, muttering something about symbols in movies as he wandered off to check the strains.
As Steve browsed the strains, Carlos leaned back, taking another hit from his bong. The shop was quiet except for the TV and Steve muttering conspiracy theories under his breath. Just as Carlos was about to drift off into his usual stoner daze, the door chimed, and the Yummrushed delivery guy appeared with a large bag in hand. Carlos waved him over, still holding in a massive bong rip. The delivery guy awkwardly handed over the cartoonishly large sandwich, trying not to laugh as Carlos struggled to keep it together while exhaling. “Thanks, man,” Carlos managed to say through a cloud of smoke. “You’re a lifesaver.” The delivery guy gave a quick nod and headed out as Carlos set the sandwich on the counter.
Carlos unwrapped the sandwich with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious rituals, eyeing the massive layers of meat, cheese, and vegetables. He took a huge bite, savoring the flavors as the stoner talk and Witcher battles blurred into the background. Ben Quackflack waddled over, eyeing the sandwich with interest. Carlos glanced down at her and grinned. "Alright, princess, I know what you’re after." He carefully tore off a piece of lettuce and handed it to Ben, who grabbed it with her beak and waddled up the ramp to Littlefoot’s tank. She dropped the lettuce in for her best friend, who lazily acknowledged the snack with a slow blink.
As Ben Quackflack waddled back down the ramp, satisfied with her good deed, she made a quick beeline for the sandwich again. With precision that only a princess could muster, she pecked off another piece of lettuce for herself. Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re too slick, Ben. Always sharing with Littlefoot, huh?” He took another huge bite from the sandwich, not minding the duck's little thefts. With the shop winding down for the day and the Witcher still playing on the TV, Carlos leaned back in his chair, completely content, while Ben happily munched on her prize next to him.