The neighbours around Salt Prairie were getting worried. No one had heard from Zeke and Zeb in quite some time.
Actually, the last anyone heard from them, they were all excited about the legalization of cannabis.
We find them inside Zeke’s cabin, cozy and snug.
“This is the life,” said Zeke, a column of smoke swirling lazily over his head.
“Dang right,” added Zeb, his long-time friend. “Lightin’ up and no one to bother us. Getting’ high, man, getting’ high!”
“Memmer when the cops would come bust us?” laughed Zeke. “It was kinda funny watchin’ yer wife bail you outta jail all those many times.”
“Only ‘cause every time we got caught I hadda take the rap.”
“That’s what a good edercation does fer ya,” said Zeke. “I’m the most edercated man in these parts. I got my Grade 8! Man, I could sweet-talk those cops into thinkin’ it was your fault ever’ time.”
“Quit yer braggin. You got all the breaks!”
“Brains ain’t breaks,” said Zeke. “Gimme another joint, will ya?”
The two light another cigarette and enjoy the high.
“Can’t figger out why those dang leaders in Ottawa took so long,” said Zeke. “Anyone with Grade 1 ecernomics knew this was gonna be a money-maker.”
“Not for us,” wailed Zeb. “Couldn’t get that damn permit to make the stuff with my criminal record and all.”
“But we’re still gonna help the economy,” said Zeke. “Cant’ wait to help puttin’ the ‘high’ in High Prairie when that store opens.”
“Salt Prairie,” said Zeb. “We’re not from the city.”
“Excuse me,” said Zeke. “But in our condition, who cares?”
The two men share a laugh.
“I can’t figger out those people who act so concerned for my health,” said Zeke. “We ain’t harmin’ nobody here.”
“Just you and I,” said Zeb. “Hey, where’s that damn Pil?”
Zeke yells for his wife. She arrives quickly with two cold Brewskis.
For Zeke and Zeb, life is good. Very, very good!
“I ne’er thought I’d see the day we could do this,” said Zeke. “Maybe that Trudeau ain’t so dumb.”
“Hah!” said Zeb. “Even an idiot can be right now and then. Shoulda named him ‘False’deau instead of ‘Tru’deau.”
The men share another laugh.
“Now we have the ‘Rehn’ man from Slave Lake and that UCP gunning’ for our MLA. It’s gonna get interesting’.”
“And how are those guys in High Prairie gonna’ like two Slave Lakers runnin’ fer MLA?”
“No need to worry,” said Zeke. “Fuss about nothin’. Just like this weed.”
“We’re harming no one but us,” Zeb agreed. “Why can’t anyone see that?”
A vehicle pulls up to the house. Zeke’s son and grandchildren arrive. The teenage son recognizes the Pilsner, odour and cannabis.
“Love you, grandpa,” he says. “When I grow up, I wanna be just like you!”
Zeke and Zeb look at each other. What have they done?