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Wayne Kee

In one hand, he held today’s Commercial Appeal, with his face resplendent and eyes blood shot on the front page.

In the other, a pink slip from the job he’d just been fired from.

“Dude.” Was all he could bring himself to say.


Just the other day, he was having the time of his life. Hanging out in the park, playing the didg’, making eyes at that pretty girl with the dreads and wooden plugs, smoking some of the kind bud. You know, just celebrating 4-20 with all God’s natural gifts.

But this? This was a total bummer.

How was he supposed to know that lanky guy with the camera wasn’t just some chill bro out to enjoy the festivities, like the rest of them? The cops weren’t narcing on them, so why did this guy have to?

Man, was that guy a buzzkill.

Ok, yeah, he probably shouldn’t have called into work saying he had the stomach flu, but that’s besides the point. It was four-freakin’-twenty, that’s like a national holiday in some places, right?

He just needed to relax. Don’t regret things you can’t control, right?

Wait, was that how it went?

“Whatever, dude.”

Memphis Note
In what I’m sure an aggressive act of schadenfreude, every April 21st, the Commercial Appeal publishes a picture of the group of stoners that gathered the previous day at Overton Park to celebrate the unofficial holiday of marijuana. And invariably, some one loses their job because their boss sees them in the paper. Which is admittedly, bad, but also just a little bit funny.


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