To whom it may concern,
If you are looking for your sorry bag of weed, it is in the trash can near the gas pump where you dropped it. Whilst I momentarily debated what should be done with this find, a quick perusal of the contents indicated that no self-respecting pothead would wish to inhale from this stash. I could not imagine even one of my most desperately green friends going for it.
Granted, it's been a long time since I knew much about such things, but I wonder if perhaps it was an inherited gift from a beloved grandparent? Maybe you wanted to run archaeological experiments on what was living in it 200 years ago when it was first picked? In either case, I hope that you can move on and realize that fate and I have interceded in your path choosing the kindest possible outcome.
