‘I think that — that anyone, the painter, the musician, the writer works in a — a kind of an— an insane fury. He’s demon-driven. He can get up feeling rotten, with a hangover, or with — with actual pain, and — and if he gets to work, the first thing he knows, he don’t remember that pain, that hangover — he’s too busy...” said one of my favorite writers, William Faulkner, in a 1957 reading from his book The Town.
I don’t know if Faulkner ever woke up in a drunk tank but there are four words that can be music to an El Paso County Jail inmate’s ears: Bobby Brown Bail Bonds. These alliterative four words made me a very content camper as I walked out of that jail after my little devils got me there with a hardy hangover on a mental health hold a few years ago. It was Bobby Brown whose bond got me released on my own recognizance so... Bobby Brown Best Buds sounded like my best bet after feeling demon-driven and hungover again and needing to burn one and blaze some black gunion.
The location is right in the corazón of our city — on Nevada Avenue and only a five minute walk from Colorado Springs Police Department headquarters. After a pregnant budtender checks me in and waddles to unlock the door, I’m taken aback by the petite purchasing area (the building is shared with Bobby Brown Bail Bonds). The MMJ delicacies more than make up for it and I feel better knowing the pregnant MMJ sommelier has little to walk.
Despite the fact the hash is tricky to see through my camera, this Bounty Huntin’ shatter from Nine Extracts is so clean and clear-looking one almost can detect the THC diamonds smiling. Partaking of the concentrate makes it hard for me not to grin and giggle as I think about inking in a 10 for this spot. The high is effective but short lived, so a perfect score will have to wait. Although dabs that are usually this pale have a flavor profile that has been castrated... this stash slaps! As I french inhale the smoke I notice the aftertaste is like rock candy and it melts in my mouth — so smooth and velvety.
The terpenes are diverse but I do detect linalool. The bouquet of the stuff makes me pop a bottle of St. Germain. They pair perfectly because they both emanate the effluvium of elderflower liqueur. Swirling my snifter and oiling up another blunt with this Bounty Huntin’ shatter, I think about how the word bouquet and bounty hunter are so close in the dictionary. Sipping my drink, I contemplate how quaint it is that I am reviewing some Bounty Huntin’ shatter from a dispensary owned by a dude who worked with THE famous modern bounty hunter of our time... DOG the Bounty Hunter! What synchronicity!
Sadly, I’ve been in and out of the asylum a few times so I’m always a little sweaty about the long arm of the law. Luckily, if I’m ever being chased by a bounty hunter or bondsman, at least I have simple needs like William Faulkner, ”My own experience has been that the tools I need for my trade are paper, tobacco, food, and a little whiskey.”
I’d personally add a few things; maybe a pencil and some nugs to the “needed items” of the novelist’s knapsack. Even mentioning the name of Duane Chapman, aka DOG, makes this hooligan swelter. I start shaking all the way down to my bones and before I drown in perspiration, exasperation and desperation like a desperado in a Southern Gothic book... I’m going... going... GONE! You can find me by following the pencil shavings and marijuana ash to Yoknapatawpha County.