An Irish, a Navajo, a Russian, and Fritalian are chilling in a graveyard. Irish man goes "the f**k is that stench coming from the masoleum." Group goes to investigate.
They locate the door placed near the filing cabinet like tombs where the smell is eminating. Navajo and Irish dudes who are six foot charges at the door, unhinged the door out of its frame.
It's a pot farm. Howaboutthat.png
The team at this point is considering what to call the strains. "Sticky icky?" The Russian ponders. "Nah, to mainstream," the Irish man utters, taking a bite out of the head of the plant. "Then f**king what, we've been playing hacky sack for the past two hours to just randomly find this conveniently placed herb in a cemetery which is completely unlikely to occur, ever, in a joint custody shared wall of graves" the Navajo precludes into lighting four preloaded darts up. After a prolonged period of time of thinking, looking at the point of entry from the outside into the unconsecreated dungeon they found in their discovery, the Fritalian says:
"The Cryptic Stench"
