You say "Hula," and you pull your last joint out of your pocket.

From Infictive

You say "Hula," and you pull your last joint out of your pocket. It is a little road bent but still smokable. You light it, take a long happy puff, and then you hand it to Motley, who, while looking like he is searching his memory banks for your name and back story, accepts the contraband and takes a drag off of it.

When the thing is all burned away, now just lights in the bloodstream, you decide to ask if there are any current band openings. Motley nods: "We are currently down to me on vocals and guitar, and Fredrich Blackstreak on drums, so show me what you've got!"

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