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This column was written for an Australian magazine called Tros Bananas; out this month

Now this is a funny story, a true story and one that most likely could only have happened in Holland. Why? The Liberal Dutch drug laws.

I don’t take any drugs anymore. Though I loved smoking weed and hash.  And I liked magic mushrooms too. Back in the days mushrooms were only available in the fall. Friends picked them in the wild (they grow on cow dung) and gave them to us for free. Now they sell ‘m for top dollar in so called smart-shops. But nothing beats finding them in the wild. And why would one like to do Mexican mushrooms? They take you to the desert! Dutch mushrooms take you to green pastures and eerie marshlands. Beautiful…

I tried most drugs once or twice. I didn’t like any of the harder drugs. Coke makes me an asshole, speed makes me stink and do stupid things, opium clouded my brain like tranquilizers do; not good. Never tried heroin; I grew up in a neighborhood close to a prostitution zone. Just looking at the skeletons selling their bodies was enough to never want to try that shit. And LSD put me in a mental hospital; it was a good lesson, but not one I would recommend to anyone. Never tried Ecstasy, I already did my trip. I still like getting drunk but I do that only twice a year. Drinking easily becomes an utterly boring habit and I get hangovers the size of Mount Everest.

I grew my own weed back in the nineties. These were the days when people started growing indoors to satisfy their own smoking needs. I didn’t grow shit to sell it; I smoked everything I grew myself together with my girlfriend and friends. And I didn’t steal electricity to grow my crops; no need to do that. I had two bulbs in a small grow room; my electricity bill went up about 15 euro’s because these growing lamps need a lot of electricity, but I smoked 15 euro’s worth a day easily. I harvested about a pound every 3 months. That was plenty to go around. Too bad this practice grew out of hand after criminals discovered how easy they could make loads of money growing weed. Imagine a society were people can grow their shit and smoke for the price of the electricity they use. Drugs would become totally uninteresting to organized crime. This is one of the reasons why drugs are still illegal and will always be. Organized crime would probably shift to kidnapping rich people and laws were invented to protect the rich, not the poor.

I quit smoking all together 6 years ago. Quitting nicotine was a hell of a lot more difficult then quitting joints I must add. I smoked a lot of weed; A LOT. At the height of my weed smoking career I rolled 3 fat joints and smoked them in my bed before going to sleep every night. For about ten years I was so stoned I barely noticed I was that high. I functioned fine though. I had a job, a home, Girlfriend, the works. But at some point I got bored and fed up being stoned so I just quit. And I did so without any withdrawal symptoms. There are two good things about marijuana; you don’t die from it, no matter how much you take, and although you may get hooked mentally, quitting is easy since your body will never depend on the stuff.

I never regretted quitting, been there done that. Being sober is just another high. But like Bill Hicks said; I had some killer times on drugs and this story is one of the funniest that happened in my drug taking years.

When one grows weed and cleans the plants you get a residue of small leafs that grow on the buds. These leafs are covered with THC crystals but you don’t smoke them since they just don’t taste that good. But they are perfect for weed cake…

Now my Mom is a Maitre du Cuisine; an excellent cook and she makes wicked Sachertorte. Sachertorte is an Austrian recipe; it’s a kind of chocolate fudge.

I never hid the fact I smoked weed to my parents and my mom was curious what getting high felt like, but she didn’t smoke. One day after eating another of these excellent cakes I told her we could make a killer weed cake using her recipe together with the left over leafs I just mentioned. Not only would it taste good but since chocolate enhances the effect of THC the cake would be very, very special indeed.

A bit to my surprise she was into the idea so a couple of days later I gave her a bag of leafs. It was about 300 grams of the stuff. When I gave her the bag I told her to give me a call when she would start making dough so I could measure out the amount of weed to put in it.

But moms don’t listen, do they?

Two days later she told me she was baking a weed cake. I came over only to find the cake was baking in the oven already. I asked for the leftover leafs but she used the whole 300 grams!! Now first of all this cake would really be ultra heavy but I also had my doubts about how it would taste with that much crass in it. I specifically told her not to start eating any of the cake without me being present to cut the cake for her and her second husband to prevent them eating too much of it.

But moms don’t listen, do they?

The next morning I called her and asked her about the cake. She told me she and her hubby just tried the cake and it tasted great. Alarmed I asked how much they ate and she told me it was just a little piece. I went over to her house to find the little piece she mentioned actually amounted to about 25% of the cake. This means they ingested about 37 grams of highly explosive marijuana each.

I decided I didn’t want to be around when this high kicked in. It would probably take a week to wear off. I also was a bit disgusted about her irresponsible behavior; imagine a son who complains about his mom being irresponsible… But on the other hand I realized they were about to take the ride of a lifetime. My mom was curious about getting stoned, now she would get a bit more then she asked for.

I explained to her and hubby what would start happening in a couple of hours; that they should take it easy, not panic regardless of what they would feel and eat sugar in case things got too heavy. Sugar intake eases the high.

I took the rest of the cake home to prevent any further use. Its common knowledge that it takes a long time to get high on weed cake and the mistake made most is eating another piece because one thinks the stuff doesn’t work properly.

Of course I told her to call me if things got out of hand; I lived just a few blocks away so I could be there in a flash.

I couldn’t resist eating a piece of the cake myself. I didn’t have to go to work until 19:00 so I had about 8 hours left to get high. I took a small piece of the cake. It tasted good though the texture was a bit grassy. I went on with my day until two hours later the high kicked in. Man, I was zonked. I sat on my balcony enjoying the sun, listening to soft music and cleaned the fridge out of about anything eatable. That was until I remembered my poor mom who had a dose about 10 times what I took. Worried I picked up the phone. It took me about 5 minutes to remember her number (no cell phones back in those days bro) and five more to punch them in on the phone properly. My mom finally picked up the phone just when I started to think it might be better to call 911. She couldn’t stop laughing and it took her ages to explain the situation. The good woman was high as a kite. After she gathered enough breath to speak in between her laughter, (which took about ten minutes; ten minutes in which I could not help but laugh along, even over the phone her high was infectious), she explained she was sitting on the stairs to the upper floor in her house and she couldn’t move anymore since the stairs turned into a waterfall of some kind. She also had flashbacks of her youth skipping rope and everything was so nice and beautiful. But most of all this laughter just didn’t go away, another burst of about five minutes long followed.

I was relieved to hear her high kicked in OK and she had so much fun but after she regained her breath again she said: I’m having the time of my life but my poor hubby is reliving the whole damn Second World War on the couch downstairs.

My mom never again touched weed; her curiosity was satisfied; been there done that. She stayed high for about a week and hubby’s high eased a bit after eating about a pound of sugar. He was a big guy…

The next day I had a gig with my band. I was in a metal band called Into the Void back then. I took the rest of the cake to the show and fed our fans little pieces of it from the stage. The crowd got really high and loved us that night. I gave about 40 people a little piece of the cake and they all got zonked…

My mom’s a trooper!!

One Comment

  1. radical!!!


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