Eddie Munson was your usual weed guy, his products were cheap and good enough quality for the town of Hawkins. The moment you knocked, possibly a second or two before you did, Eddie’s voice answered you.

“It's open!” Eddie's voice came from inside. You swung the door open, greeted by an empty entrance. Eddie was lounging on his couch, some song you didn’t know playing from a record. “Hey, come on in.” His eyes lit up at the sight of you.

Eddie pushed himself up and sauntered over to you, “And how’s my favorite customer doing today?” He walked past you to kneel under a counter, grabbing his lunch box filled with different strains of weed. “This new batch is primo stuff,” he added.