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Lord of the Ganga

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Once upon a time there was a little house in the suburbs. The owner of the house rented it to a ‘couple’, who  payed a year’s rent in advance, and he left them to it. Months later the police descended on the house, which they had been keeping under surveillance. It turns out, the lovely 3-bedroom suburban wonder had been used to house a massive hydroponics endeavour. It was a drug house.

The landlord reapired all the damage caused by the evil drug lords and chose his next tenants with care. A family with 3 4 children. He knew they would take better care of the house – no hydro for them.

Which is why it was particularly funny to wake up and find this in our driveway this morning:

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I looked out the window and could see what looked like a book lying on the gravel. After we had peered at it through the window for several minutes Beefcake was overcome by curiosity and went out to have a look. He has since had a little wander up and down our street and found that they  are everywhere.This game (as featured on disapproving local current affairs program) is *gasp* a game about how to create a successful business dealing hydroponically grown drugs. Think monopoly with weed. Actually, think Weeds in a board game.The  concern has been that these games, which just get left in public parks (and in peoples driveways evidently) will plant evil thoughts in the minds of children and lead them to abuse drugs. Nobody is worried that Cluedo is going to give children ideas about becoming murderers. Although, now that I think of it, Rhubarb has exhibited some predisposition for bumping off people with candlesticks. Must keep an eye on that.

So dear readers, I have procured a second game, which I will send to one of you. Hours of fun for the while family in this one little game. To enter, just share a story about an encounter you have had with the ganga. You’ve all got one, I know you have – go on.

I’ll randomly draw the winner somehow or other.

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4 responses

  1. I only tried it once in a pub garden when I was very drunk already. Probably why it didn’t do much for me to be honest.

    It was a singularly disappointing experience and not at all story worthy. Sorry.

    I was hoping to be eating many, many cakes. Nada.

  2. My story starts of with 5 boys.
    in a parked car.
    “dutching it up”.
    Actually only 3 of us took part in the dutching, the other 2 were just along for the ride. We had a “peace pipe”, a little “pocket pipe” and “double bubble” (the ultimate in double filtered bongs).
    Windows up.
    Aircon set to recycle.
    ….time passes
    ….pipes passed
    ….bong passed
    ….smoke fills the car
    ….time passes
    “hey man ……I think the car’s rolling into the creek”
    “….what man? you what? ….is the car moving?”
    “what? nah. hey what are those lights man? is that the cops?”
    “hahaha what man? hey? nah”
    The pocket pipe comes to me, I put it to my lips and try to light it. damn! The lighter wont work. Try again. Still no joy.
    “hey man, give me your lighter man”
    I try with the new lighter. damn thing! Still no luck.
    “hey man, gimme another lighter”
    I try again. dammit! This one wont work either.

    …..somewhere in the depths of my mind an alarm is ringing
    my thoughts:
    hmmm that means something…… all the lighters have stopped working. ……hmmmm something about fire….. ummm…. wow man I am so stoned…. ……hmmm fire ….hmmm lighters dont work…… hmmmm …..DING DING!!

    “OH MY GOD” I shout “THERE”S NO OXYGEN IN HERE!” ….”everyone open the doors! quick!”

    ….smoke rushes out….. I breathe a deep breath of fresh air.

    …..”hey man”
    “yeah what man”
    ….”are you hungry?”

  3. I have no stories of me and actaul ganga joy to share, however my uncle did phone me to ask me how to make hash cookies. How in the bloody hell was I supposed to know how to make hash cookies? Me of all people, the one who had been dubbed the snobby nerd of the extended family!
    It was in the days before Google so I had absolutely no idea of how to make a hash cookie. Being the ever resourceful person that I am, I grabbed a recipe book (my mum’s favourite recipe book, courtesy of the local school mother’s club fundraiser), and read out the recipe for Afghan cookies and substituted the cornflakes for weed.
    I never actually found out if the recipe was successful, but this same uncle called to ask my dad if I had a new job – working as a topless waiter at the pub up the road from his house!

    del’s last blog post… Reader Schmeader

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