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Weedpunk

[PT: Weedpunk / END PT]

A stance that is defined as a non-conforming or a "I don't care" kind of way when it comes to stances, discourses, and identity as a whole.

This identity is inherently pro good faith and aligns itself with incluspunk.

Tagging ; @hrtluka , @brrobin , @thecherryspirit , @radiomogai

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There she stood, clad in a brilliant green latex body-thong.  Natascha Kush, agent for the Herb Faction, and yet she was helping Richard.  He could not understand.

"You saved my life, but why?" He asked, his voice trembling as he examined her.

"Let's just say ve have high hopes for you, doctor."  The words hung on her lips, which were also green.  "Sometimes you have to play the field, and I'd like to keep you in play."  She winked seductively, her green eyeliner glittering hypnotically.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Said Clint from his weed-cycle.

"Enough of your quips Clint, and enough of your confusing advances, Ms. Kush.  That monster is wrecking New Atlanta, and if we don't figure out how to reverse the Dank mutagen, it may well infect everybody in its path..."

"True weed-pocalypse..." Clint rubbed his stubble at the idea.

Natascha pulled a small purple vial out of her cleavage  which was quite awesome.  "This can cure the affliction, but it needs a delivery system."

Clint and the doctor eyed each other knowingly.

"The weed-cannon..." Clint whispered.

As the doctor worked feverishly to unbind his hemp shackles, a gravely voice called out from the shadows.

"Heh, doc looks like you've done it again."

A chiseled jaw peeked out of the shadows.  It was the unmistakably rugged visage of Clint Ripper.  Clint had worked with Richard in college, and had helped him develop some of his theories involving weed dynamics.  But Clint played too fast and loose with the rules.  After a botched experiment with a weed-cannon, Clint only said, "F**k the scientific method..."

"Damn it Clint, you always did have poor timing.  Get me down, I need to report my findings to the general."

Clint flicked open his weedblade and slit the bindings.  He remarked, "Funny how we've studied all the ways to advance weed technology, and yet sometimes the low-tech stuff does the job..."  He stared thoughtfully at the blade, catching the reflection of a Potbot hovering above.

"We've got company!" He gritted his teeth and threw the blade right into the Potbot's gears, disabling it.

"Aha, finally."  He threw up his hands theatrically, as Macho Man Randy Savage would have.  "I have developed a gyro-copter that will run on my WEED ENGINE."

He ran his hands over the glimmering device of chrome and glass.  Nugs were bubbling up in the percolators and the vaporizer was humming smoothly.  It truly was the finest invention any human had ever devised, using the otherwise useless marijuana plant for something positive.