Smoke Two Joints

"I smoke two joints in the morning.
I smoke two joints at night.
I smoke two joints in the afternoon, it makes me feel alright
I smoke two joints in time of peace, and two in time of war
I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints,
and then I smoke two more

smoked cigarettes 'til the day she died
toke a big spliff of some good sensimilla
smoked cigarettes 'til the day she died
toke a big spliff of some good sensamilla...

Daddy he once told me 'son you be hard workin' man'
and Momma she once told me 'son you do the best you can'
but, then one day I met a man who came to me and said
'hard work good, and hard work fine but first take care of head'"

White Rabbit Productions presents a P. Money Picture:

"SMOKE TWO JOINTS"

"That one over there is a Monificus Paraphernalias," said Professor Sprout distractedly.

"The big one with the spiky red leaves?" asked Neville wearily. He had been out in the greenhouses all day helping the Professor catalogue the plants as an extra-credit assignment, and he was starting to feel that it wasn't worth it.

"Here's the camera, take a good picture. There you go. Let's see, good condition, not being attacked by anything else, not attacking anything else, excellent. Write that down." Neville wrote his one hundred and eighty-sixth entry in the log and attached the newly-developed picture before letting out a long sigh. "Don't worry, son," said Professor Sprout kindly. "There's just one more sample to go." She cut a branch of the Paraphernalias, placed it in a bag, and attached the bag to the corresponding picture and entry. "Now for our last plant. These are Cannabis Sativa, the buds are an important ingredient in relaxation potions, among other things. Note the unique shape of the leaves. Now, a quick picture, and I'll cut a sample. They are in excellent condition." Neville scribbled down the entry. Professor Sprout handed him a bag of samples. "You can go now, Neville. Thank you so much for your help."

The fifth-year Gryffindor dorm was empty when Neville arrived. He placed the stack of catalogued plant samples on the end table and was about to lie down for a nap when Dean and Seamus entered the room.

"Hey, Neville, you've got to come down to the common room. Fred and George got Ron to eat something and it turned his arms and legs into a spider's!"

"Yeah, it's really cool. He keeps looking at himself and freaking out!" put in Dean. "Hold on a minute. What's that you've got on the table there?"

"Just an extra-credit thing I was doing for Herbology," explained Neville wearily.

"Neville, do you know what you have here? I'll wager you don't, from the look on your face. Seamus, get me some of that thin parchment I keep in my bag, will you?"

"No problem," replied Seamus and hurried off.

"Now Neville," said Dean slowly, "this plant you have samples of goes by many names. Marijuana, pot, weed, Ganja, Cannabis and so on. It is very popular, yet illegal, in most of the Muggle world. Fortunately, it is less popular, and therefore legal, in wizarding Britain. Now, I'll show you how to use it as soon as Seamus comes back."

Seamus arrived with a few pieces of parchment from Dean's bag, and Dean proceeded to roll a joint using Professor Sprout's sample. He took his wand from his robes and said "Incendio." A small flicker of flame lit the joint, and Dean relaxed against the wall a he inhaled. A thin line of smoke trailed out of his mouth, and he sighed.

"That's really good stuff, Neville. You got lucky. Now, another important lesson: it is critically important to share the joint. Here, take it. And remember, it's puff, puff, pass." Neville looked at the joint curiously. It smelled inviting. He put it to his lips and inhaled quickly. Dean shook his head. "No, no. You've got to breathe in longer." Neville inhaled again, slowly. He felt the smoke filling his mouth and lungs, but had no urge to cough; the smoke was smooth, and he felt his muscles and mind relaxing as he passed the joint to Seamus. Dean had a huge smile on his face as he sat on Neville's bed, leaning against the wall. Neville joined him as Seamus tried and failed to blow a smoke ring.

"Neville, my friend," said Dean slowly, "this is huge. You've got to get one of those plants from Professor Sprout." Neville was uncertain.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's good, yeah, but I don't want to get into any trouble." Dean smiled.

"Look, mon. You can't get into any trouble with this. It's legal here. It's a certified Potions ingredient. We used it last year. I remember, 'cause I kept my share of it out of the potion and smoked it. Now," he leaned in close, "I want you to go ask Sprout for a plant. Say it's for a project or something. It'll be well worth it, my friend."

Two Weeks Later

Professor McGonagall was worried. "Albus, something's wrong. Marks are down twenty-three percent overall, and the Gryffindors have dropped forty-eight percent. I've noticed a peculiar smell coming from the fifth-year boys' dorm, and our hydro bill is up thirty-five Galleons." Dumbledore seemed unconcerned.

"My dear Minerva, I assure you that there is nothing to be worried about. It's probably just the hot sun and summer weather."

"Albus, it's December. What are you talking about?"

"What I meant," continued Dumbledore, unflustered, "is that it's probably just the winter blues. I'm sure the marks will pick up in time."

McGonagall was unconvinced. "Even Ms. Granger's marks have been dropping. And Longbottom smells like a garden. A garden on fire."

"Please, Professor, your concerns are baseless. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." McGonagall left, and Dumbledore removed a still-smoldering joint from his sleeve. "Thank you, Mr. Longbottom," he remarked pleasantly. "Here, Fawkes, try some of this."

Snape was incensed. "That's the third cauldron explosion this week, Longbottom! That's as many as the rest of your blitheringly incompetent housemates combined! Surely, there is no display of ineptitude, that can even compare to that which you have just demonstrated!"

Neville quivered in fear, despite his high. "Please, Professor Snape, I know what I did wrong," he stammered.

"And that would be? Besides ever being found suitable for enrollment here, that is?"

"I must have added too much Cannabis Sativa," he said nervously. "It off-balanced the Centaur toenails and caused the potion to reverse its toxicity from a studying potion to a sensory redundification draught."

"Well, I'll be-," said Snape. "That's amazing, Longbottom. How did you know that? Ms. Granger didn't slip you any results this time, did she? After all, she made the same mistake."

"Professor, I've been analyzing the effects of Cannabis Sativa as part of an Herbology project. For example, when smoked, it benefits the nerves and... 'adjusts' the senses. As you seem to need a relaxation of the nerves, allow me to demonstrate." Neville removed a joint from his pocket, lit it, and toked deeply. "Now you try it, Professor."

Ten Minutes Later

"Longbottom, I never thought I'd say this, but you are a genius in your own right." Snape was lying on his desk, regarding the Giant Bolivian Fresh-Water Oyster he was levitating above his head as if it held the secrets of all life. Not that it didn't, of course.

Neville was not there, despite Snape's conversation with him, he had left a note saying that if Snape wished for more of his product, he should contact him when necessary. He was, instead, in his dorm room, along with Dean (who had adopted a Jamaican accent and Rasta hat as Neville's official consultant) and Harry. Ron was there as well, representing Fred and George, who wished to sell Neville's magically-enhanced weed through their W³ label.

"What do you think, Dean?" asked Neville.

"Well, mon," said Dean between tokes, "the contract appears to be in order. As soon as Fred and George have made our requested adjustments, we should sign and begin the transactions. This is a highly profitable venture, my friend, for both sides."

"Very well, Mr. Weasley," said Neville officiously, "You may return to your brothers and tell them that when they have implemented the cost-sharing clause, we will have a deal." Ron took a copy of the contract and left.

Two Weeks Later

The population of Hogwarts, and that of Hogsmeade as well, was in shock. The patrons of The Three Broomsticks lay in various positions on the floor, faces twisted in horror. One immobile body clutched a copy of the Daily Prophet. Emblazoned on the front page were four words: Ministry Outlaws Cannabis Sativa. The line in front of W³ stretched down the street as patrons tried to get one last dime bag before they went out of stock. Nearby, Dean Thomas was giving a press conference.

"My brothas and sistahs! While W³ is no longer selling weed, rest assured the flow will not stop! My associates and I intend to make certain that this ban is short lived. We are petitioning the Ministry to allow medicinal usage of our beloved herb, and at the same time, we are giving out free samples to Ministry membahs. Now please, do not stop purchasing Cannabis. If there is no longer demand, there will no longer be supply. Keep on toking, my friends!" He was given a hearty round of applause.

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Pansy Parkinson was disturbing Draco Malfoy.

"I know you won't agree with what I'm going to do, but I believe in it and I have to do it." Draco looked worried.

"She's going to nark on our stash," he said in an undertone to Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe was confused.

"But we don't have a stash," he rumbled. Draco stroked his chin as his eyes moved from side to side.

"Right...of course not."

Two Weeks Later

The Daily Prophet had been giving Hogwarts a bad rap of late. "Despite the ban on Cannabis, students at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and Wizardry continue to make heavy use of the herb," read Dean Thomas proudly. "Sources say that much of the illegal plant currently circulating in wizarding Britain originated there; however, headmaster Albus Dumbledore denies rumors that an Herbology greenhouse has been transformed into a grow-op..." there was a round of applause for Dumbledore, who sat smoking his pipe with his feet on the staff table, humming along to Professor Snape, who was singing Three Little Birds. Just then, there was a resounding knock on the doors. Dumbledore hefted himself out of his chair and went to the door. When he opened it, there was a loud gasp in the Great Hall. Lord Voldemort himself stood at the door. He steepled his fingers and smiled grimly.

"Hello, Albus. I was honestly hoping this would be more of a challenge." Dumbledore's smile never waned, and he puffed on his pipe.

"Tom! How nice to see you again! What did you do to your hair?"

By now, all of the students but Harry, Dean, Neville and Draco had fled. So had all the teachers. The remaining students clustered together behind Dumbledore, except for Draco, who sat on the end of the Slytherin table.

"Dude, it's Lord V!" he said loudly, holding his fingers up in the peace sign (Which, incidentally, is also a V). Voldemort did not look amused.

"My plan for owning the world has gone unchecked so far. And you, my arch nemeses, have all apparently become potheads. The world will be mine!" Neville was unimpressed. Stepping out from behind Dumbledore so that his psychedelic tie-dye shirt was in full view, he poked Voldemort in the chest.

"Dude, you can't like, own a world. I mean, it's like, one of mother nature's children." Voldemort sneered and leaned down so that he was face to face with Neville.

"You, squib, will be the first here to die. Mwa ha ha ha ha..."

Neville interrupted his evil laughter by placing a joint between Voldemort's thin, colorless lips. "Incendio," he whispered. Before he was able to stop laughing, Voldemort had inhaled.

"Ha ha ha...hey! This stuff's pretty good!"

Ten Minutes Later

"You know, Albus, I may have been wrong about this whole world domination, dark magic and immortality business. I mean, what's the good of living forever and controlling everything with a horde of evil minions if you can't appreciate the real joys in life?"

"Yeah, life's good, ain't it, Lord V?" said Draco, looking up at the sky. Harry was trying to catch fish barehanded in the lake, while Dennis Creevey tried to find the giant squid's mouth in order to offer it a joint. Snape sang softly in the background. Voldemort smiled and ruffled Neville's hair. Dean was staring at his hands.

"You know mon, they call them fingers, but you never see them fing." Everyone smiled and nodded. "Oh, wait. There they go."

Snape kept singing...

"Rise up this morning,
Smiled with the rising sun.
Three little birds,
Pitch by my door step,
Singing sweet songs,
Of melodies pure and true,
Saying, this is my message to you:

Don't worry, about a thing,
'Cause every little thing is gonna be alright.
Oh, Don't worry about a thing,
Every little thing is gonna be alright..."