The Marijuana Cigarette Story

             The Marijuana Cigarette Story

                                                                                   1983       

                                                                            Written 2019    

                                                                           Howard Yasgar 

In 1983 I was a 44 year old bachelor living in the Tahoe Springs apartment complex in Miami.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and I had a couple of good friends staying with me.

One of them was a Cuban Refugee Miguel Marquez, who came to work for me in 1963 right after he had escaped from Cuba.

Miguel always referred to himself as a Cuban hillbilly, but I felt that Miguel had an excellent Innate natural intelligence, so over the years, Miguel and I had become the best of friends. 

So here we were, both of us bachelors, hanging around together in my apartment on a Sunday afternoon.   

On this particular Sunday, I also had another friend staying with me, his name was Bob Martinez. 

Bob, originally came from Puerto Rico, and he was also a bachelor just like Miguel and myself.

Bob, was now living in Orlando, and he made his living as a salesman, he was selling fancy picture frames and other items to gift stores.

Once a month, when Bob called on his Miami clients, I invited him to stay with me in my apartment.

On this particular Sunday, we were all sitting down at my only table when Bob produced a Marijuana cigarette, twisted on both ends.

He laid it on the table, as Miguel and I stared at it.

I knew very well what it was, and so did Miguel, but neither one of us had ever actually smoked a Marijuana Cigarette.

All my life, I had always heard about all the crazy things that happened when you smoked Marijuana, so I always made sure that I avoided it.

Miguel picked the cigarette up and looked at it closely.

He said, “You know this stuff is all bullshit, people all say things happen when you smoke this stuff, but I don’t believe anything really happens to you, I think they are all just exaggerating”. 

Bob reached over, took the cigarette and lit it up.

Bob took a deep drag, and passed it to Miguel.

Miguel took a puff, coughed and passed the thing to me, so I also took a puff also handing it back to Bob.

Miguel, looked around the table and said, “You see, nothing happens”.

Bob, got up taking the cigarette with him and excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Then Miguel stood up and walked into my guest bedroom.

After a few seconds, Miguel appeared in the bedroom doorway and said, “How many Bob Martinez’s are staying here tonight?

Only one I said, why do you ask?

He said, “There are two Bob Martinez’s sleeping in the bedroom and there is no bed for me”. 

That’s when Bob Martinez came out of the bathroom, and said, “How about we all go get a Pizza”,

It sounded like a good idea, so we all went down stairs and got into Bob’s beat up 1979 Chevrolet.

Bob drove, Miguel was in the back seat and I was sitting in the passenger seat.

As I sat there in the passenger’s seat, I felt that my cowboy boots were really irritating me.

The tops of the boots were constantly rubbing against my legs.

It became so irritating that I kept reaching down with my hand just to keep the boots from rubbing so much.

As I sat there, I vowed that I would never buy or wear the cowboy boots again.

When we got to the Pizza place and I got out of the car, it was then that I realized I wasn’t wearing my cowboy boots.