By On the occasion of our 20th anniversary
By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
That anecdote reminds Racer X of a funny story he’d been meaning to tell me all day. “Remember that cute girl we delivered to last week?” he asks, referring to Yoga Girl. “Well, her mom got ahold of her cell phone.” According to Racer X, Yoga Girl’s mom began dialing all the unfamiliar numbers on her daughter’s phone, which eventually put her on the line with the Big Kahuna, who always answers the phone by stating the name of his cannabis club.
“What are you?” the anxious mother asked the Big Kahuna.
“We’re a club,” he answered.
“Is my daughter in your club?” the woman asked, the alarm in her voice rising.
The Big Kahuna was about to hang up on her, but then thought better of it. After all, it wasn’t like he was a drug dealer. He was a legitimate, nonprofit organization.
“Yeah, you know what?” he responded, his voice still friendly and professional. “I don’t think I’m going to answer any more of your questions. You’re not part of the club.”