He delivered weed under the pizza to the same house four times in one night. It was a narcotics sting. He gave them extra marinara and a peace sign.
A cop checked one car in the Taco Bell drive-thru. Then the next. Then all nine. Not one person in line had a valid license. One offered a Costco card.
He called 911 to report his weed stolen. Then he handed officers a spreadsheet with strain names, profit margins, and a customer loyalty program.
He tried to pay for $37 in gas station snacks with a gallon bag of weed, asked to speak to a manager when it was declined, and was found eating unpaid Sour Patch Kids on the floor.
They sealed every crack in their apartment for the ultimate hotbox. Then the building's HVAC kicked on, pulled the smoke into all four floors, and evacuated 150 people.
She hotboxed her Subaru so hard that a passing jogger got a contact high, ate an entire sleeve of Girl Scout cookies, and forgot how to run.
He ate twelve pot brownies thinking they were regular office treats. He then spent 45 minutes in a supply closet alphabetizing paper clips and narrating an elevator.
A drug-detection K-9 escaped his handler's backyard on his day off, wandered to a neighbor's 4/20 party, and sat in perfect alert position next to the stash. He ignored the hot dog they offered him.