I have always thought that I will reach the end of my days without trying a penis, and until now I have fulfilled it. But I will not forget the day I ate some chocolates stuffed with marijuana; yes, shaped like a penis. Again, I tried one of the biggest rock concerts in Latin America — Rock al Parque in Bogotá, Colombia — with exquisite marijuana bathed in rum, but that’s another story.
The first time I tried a penis (of marijuana) was in college. The university where we smoked more marijuana than the readings of the classes. We were in a square of the university, building a joint, near the faculty of communication; a place of pilgrimage of all cannabis smokers. In Bogotá, it is very common to see people who smoke marijuana in the glass drippers that they sell in pharmacies. It is for the difficult times where the money is not enough for a quality pipe.
In the square, after having smoked some puff in the dropper, in the middle of class, the fun was to see beautiful girls walking between the buildings. Tropical asses shaking their hips from one place to another; Colombian women bodies like a guitar. But a woman stood out: black hair; thick, red-rimmed glasses; and a high-pitched voice. Much later on a different day, she showed me her breasts that had some pink details tattooed around her nipples, but that’s another story. This woman, in the middle of the crowd of students, was not afraid to sell her product to any student.
“Marijuana penises! Marijuana penises!” she screamed, again and again. I thought it was a joke, but she did say again: “Marijuana penises! I sell marijuana penises!” I approached the woman, asking the cost of the marijuana penises.
“They are at 2,000 Colombian pesos [which are less than 1 United States dollar] and they are well, chubby,” she answered with a sensual voice of a saleswoman. “Ayayai [surprise],” I thought to myself, this woman does know how to sell. “Give me three,” I said, and when I saw the chocolate pieces, they seemed small, tiny, but something told me that on the inside, they were the bomb.
What did she do to make the balls so well-rounded and in good shape? She was a teacher in the art of penises…of marijuana. “Who wants a marijuana penis?” I asked my friends. “Shut up, faggot!” someone said between several heads, “but give me four!”
That woman made a fortune that day; I do not know why I did not see her selling the penises again at the university. She had a natural talent to sell them. Her name was Haira, a very unusual name, but it has a beautiful musicality: Hai-ra. The day she sold the penises, I lost my virginity, in regards to the only penises that I have eaten, those of marijuana. Because we all forgot that they were penises, the fact that we listened to marijuana penises as a great sale promise. In addition, the people who bought the most were men. I think we all wanted to know what marijuana penises were like.