I was being silly with a friend, who is a muse for me. We get one another’s warped minds. She said, “I would marry a stoner, if he supported me.”
Of course, my warped mind immediately went into action. She approaches her Mom as a teenager. (No, I will not tell you how old she is, a gentleman never divulges, nor asks, a lady’s age). “Mom, I’m gonna marry Pop Stoner.
Mom’s eyes are bulging from her head. “Why don’t you just call him, Pot Stoner, because that’s what he is! I forbid it!”
“Oh yeah?! The Stoner’s are the richest family in Grass Valley!”
At that moment, Pop rides up on his Harley and sweeps her away. “We’re eloping!”
The moral of this silly tale. Depends on the Stoner!