Are you sick of these guys yet? I was loading up Sylvie, my brushed aluminum Vortex 9 Transport, with the 47 tonnes of chronic I'd just purchased at WeedMart, and sure enough Merv shows up, scroungin for grass. "Can I bum a lid?" Damn man, you've got to learn to control your weed and not let it control you. Now I'm not one to say you shouldn't smoke as much as possible. I mean, we're only in this solar system for a limited amount of time, but when it gets to where you are hanging around WeedMart, not knowing where your next joint is coming from, then weed is no longer your friend, but the blue monkey on your back. Back to the story. So I give poor Merv a couple lids to keep him high for a couple days, but I watch as he goes over to the corner and lights up. Fukagypsy, Merv powered through about three hundred joints in the first five minutes. Now, I can smoke some joints, and I know chumps that can smoke a lot more jpm than myself, but this was amazing. Right before my eyes, Merv polished off those lids without even blinking. Well, and you're probably thinking the same thing, this guy would be insane at the Pan Galactic Smokeout. So I went over and offered him another lid. And I started talking about the smokeout, and it turns out his grandpa won the smokeout in Amsterdam four hundred years in a row. So, Merv grew up in a hot box essentially, his lung, or whatever he has, get all the nutrients they need from the weed smoke. The guy doesn't even need to eat. Lucky fucker. Anyfuk, to make a short story short, Merv had no interest in competing. None. He just likes to get high. How can you argue with that. I could use a couple lids myself, right now. Good night.

       Gratz meef,
            Reverend Speefnarkle