To say you were popular would be an understatement. Truly, it would be an insult.

You were on the top of the food chain: straight A’s, captain of the basketball team, organizer of the Arts Club, and the biggest heartthrob since Steve Harrington lost his crown.

So why you, the king of kings, sat across from him in the middle of the woods on a Thursday afternoon to buy enough pot to kill a bear, was beyond him.

But you had the cash and he had the grass, so he tried his very hardest to ignore the social class, even when you wore that stupid letterman jacket that seemed to be more decoration than clothing as you looked for spare change in your pocket.

Why the hell did you need pot?