Years ago in Chicago, there was a little storefront near Belmont street. Inside was a pool table, and a bunch of guys hanging out.
There was a little office area in the back, not a separate room, but a partition with a big window, so everyone could kind of see what was going on in there, and a hole in the wall.
I would go in there regularly, and without saying a word, I would go to the office, and show the guy in there some cash.
He would count it and say out loud how much it was, and then reach into the hole in the wall and pull out exactly the sack of weed I was looking for.
I stopped going there because I found better weed somewhere else.
Then someone I knew got arrested for growing.
The cops tore up his place, and damaged the ceiling while pulling the lights down, getting plaster bits all over the plants. They were just starting to be sticky, so the plaster stuck all over the plants.
(His lawyer got the charges reduced because of the damage and the extra weight caused by plaster bits.)
Anyway, no weed, I had to go back to the little storefront.
So I go in and get my usual 10 sack, and what's in the bag????



Premature bud with plaster bits all over it.