Day 1:

I know they are. I can smell it on their breath, the little purple bastards. I tried all the usual remedies -- shark repellent, pungi sticks, flypaper -- but I only made them angry. Every day I look there's a little bit more gone, and pot crumbs all over my desk.

Day 2:

Nailed one, with shrimp fork I was using to clean my bowl. Had the sucker pinned to the table, but as I moved in with the scissors, he ripped off his ear and fled. And the f'r actually grabbed a nug in broad nightlight while I was sitting their vegging with a stony stare.

Dat 3:

My bag is gone and I'm really high. There's a bud stuffed in my nose, a calling card of the alien mafia I fear. Checked the growroom and saw that they had manicured my plants without my permission, topping 2. Bastards. I hope you die and rot in wherever you guys go to rot.

Come back if you dare -- I got a double-barreled shotgun full of M&M's, and I'm ready to blast you into a sugary sweet oblivion.

But anyways, that's not what I wanted to ask. What I wanted to ask IS "Do you think I'm crazy or are there really aliens chowing down on my stash?"
OR Freebird Reviewed by OR Freebird on . Aliens are eating my stash Day 1: I know they are. I can smell it on their breath, the little purple bastards. I tried all the usual remedies -- shark repellent, pungi sticks, flypaper -- but I only made them angry. Every day I look there's a little bit more gone, and pot crumbs all over my desk. Day 2: Nailed one, with shrimp fork I was using to clean my bowl. Had the sucker pinned to the table, but as I moved in with the scissors, he ripped off his ear and fled. And the f'r actually grabbed a nug in broad Rating: 5