So for background I went camping with my friend and brought a half ounce of weed, we'd been smoking and cooking edibles all day and must of absolutely reeked of cannabis, I was so high that I could feel every pebble I stepped on pushing into my foot and reverberating in my skull in an almost orgasmic sensation, but I managed to retard confidence the cops on the way in. We get to campsite, everyone is a drunk psycho petit bouj and there's all these rough middle aged men gathered around a fire and doing this weird white person ritual up on the cliff. A few come down and harrass us because we put our tents up infront of their's and my gay Argentinian friend is wigging out like he's having flashbacks to nam or something. The whole thing was like that scene in apocalypse now where they get to camp charlie and all the soldiers have gone mad lighting off flares and tripping out. Anyways we go to smoke more weed to chill out and we witness this grown ass man steal this little kid's skateboard and ride off, so my friend being the decent guy he is goes off to call over the security guard while I'm rolling up a joint.
I look over my shoulder and the security guard's right there 10 metres away talking to my friend, because no shit. So I tuck that shit under my hoodie and turn around. We start talking to him and he calls the cops. Argentinian friend is noided but he doesn't know I still have the weed. I'm shitting my pants a bit because I'm holding onto illicit drugs and I STANK.
Cop shows up and walks over to stand by the security guard about 3 metres away from us and starts asking questions, asks us if we've been drinking, with a smirk, and finishes taking statements. As he's wrapping up I lift my arm up and the bag of weed shoots out at this cop, I watch in cinematic horror as the bag lands directly on the cops right boot, a fat half ounce of bud delicately nestled on a shiny leather boot, large size.
In a split second the cop's gaze subconsciously shifts, I force my eyes into him and lock contact in a sustained eyeball-handshake. He meets my stare at first, out of habit, then confusion falls, there grows a slight discomfort,
I change the topic and praise him, I walk closer towards him with a confident even pace, he cannot recognize a reason behind my behavior. He thinks I am gay. Then he thinks I am retarded.
He looks back uneasily to the security guard for reassurance. I lock eyes with Argentinian friend and guide his eyes downwards,he looks on with an expression of pure terror at the fruits of my hubris. I turn back to the security guard and walk closer still, I am a foot away from him now, even the mightiest of autistic chads cannot match my daring. He gives a polite or slightly submissive smile and wraps up the conversation. I immediately drop to my knees to tie my shoes as the ganja reflex time slows down my movements to look more natural. I scoop up the weed and live another day.