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Caught with Cannabis

I got my dog Mellow Yellow from a lady in the Central Valley. Her bitch had a big litter. I took the best male. A cop took the best female. I thought I got the better part of the deal, but what I didn’t know, and what the lady didn’t tell me, was that the dog had hereditary arthritis. I didn’t find that out until a vet ran tests. The dog also had epileptic seizures; phenobarbital helped. My wife and I and Mellow drove to Spokane to visit my sister. After a while we decided to head north in our Datsun. When we were crossing the border into Canada, a custom’s dog sniffed the front right light where I had stashed a small amount of pot. 

They busted, and, when they found 50 phenobarbital in our possession their eyes lit up. They thought we were smuggling the pills to sell. I explained that I had a prescription from a vet for my dog. The customs guys called her and she backed up my story, but they wrote me a ticket for the pot and told me to come back in two months for a trial. “What about tomorrow?” I asked. “No.” “What about two days from now?” Same response. Finally, they agreed to put my case on the calendar in three days. My wife and I had time to kill so we stayed in a beautiful hotel with a view of Mt. Rainier. When I explained to the woman at the front desk what happened to me she said, “Oh, dear, never cross the border with weed!”  

On the morning of the third day, on the way to my court appearance, the Datsun broke down—it was the alternator—and died. I got out, pushed the car into the parking lot at a Denny’s, went inside, announced to everyone that I had to be in court in half an hour and offered to pay anyone $50 to drive me there. A guy at the cash register said, “I ’m a born again Christian, brother. I’d love to help you.” He gave me a ride and wouldn’t take my money. By then I was feeling sick to my stomach, but I tried to hold it together. I crossed the street, aimed for the courthouse and threw up a couple of times. There was three feet of snow on the ground and ice everywhere. I slipped and fell. Ice cold water ran down the crack in my rear. I went up the steps and into the courtroom.  

A Chinese guy was there with his family. Someone called his name. He got up, ran across the room, all the way to the judge’s bench. To show respect, he bowed way down as though he was in front of the last Chinese emperor. One of the bailiffs automatically reached for his gun, but no guns were allowed in the courtroom, so he came up empty handed. I started to laugh. The judge started to laugh and everyone in the courtroom, including the bailiffs, chuckled. They brought the Chinese guy back to where he was supposed to be, charged him with possession of marijuana and fined him. I was also fined, paid $300, which was all I had and arranged to mail the remainder. The cops gave me back the phenobarbital, but not the marijuana. I had the alternator on the Datsun fixed and my wife and I went to my sister's place in Spokane where we had left our dog, Mellow Yellow. He was happy to see us and we were happy to see him.

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