POW a new book for you guys!

Hi Gang, I don't have much time for forums these days, so I know I have no clout here. But I am very supportive and proud of my state for it's efforts in legalization. The reason I'm posting is I wanted to tell the readers around here that I wrote a book for you. To be fair I also wrote the book for skiers and snowmobilers, so my ideal target is a pot smoking skier who rides snowmobiles. Anyway, I set my novel in a Colorado ski town in the 90's, so all my characters are pretty stony. From there the story takes you on an adventure and ends with a high speed chase.
If you are looking for a fun summer read that will help you cool down, this might be it. I promise snow and pot smoke in almost every chapter. Find it here Tim Reinholt's Books and Publications Spotlight or on FB @ POW the Book. Thanks for checking it out.

 

I think you're absolutely right about what's coming. I cringe at the thought of all the old movie reboots coming back *NOW WITH POT! For my story I couldn't write about four dudes in a ski town who come home from work chill on the couch and... drink bleach. Weed means as much to ski town culture as snow.And I promise I didn't write a story and then add weed as a comic relief. That said, we know that funny things do happen when you burn herb. Would you want to read any if I posted a bit? I'm trying to find people who read in 2018, I may as well be hunting fuckin' Unicorns.

 

Pow | Adventure Story by Tim Reinholt | Inkitt

Oh, sorry guys I hadn’t checked back on this post. There’s a link to get a free version on your phone. Man, I would love it if you even just read the first chapter. Thanks for the support!

 

Here's an excerpt from the first chapter.

Johnny tried in defeat to blow through his one-hitter, but found it to be thoroughly plugged with resin, the tar-like substance left over when pot is burned. He opened the one large drawer in the coffee table and sorted through the lighters and rolling papers until he found the appropriate poking device: a single bicycle spoke. It had been cut down to about eight inches with the rounded nipple end serving as a handle. The other end was already coated with sticky resin. He started a cycle of heating the pipe with a lighter then pushing at the resin buildup with the poker, hoping to clear the bore.

It was nearly eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night, during the magical time of year in the Colorado ski town of Crested Butte known as ‘preseason’. The first snowstorm had already teased the locals into believing this would be a big year even though it was only the end of October. A new crop of hopeful skiers and snowboarders were steadily flowing into town, fighting for decent living spaces and decent jobs, both of which were limited. The boys were going on their third year in CB. This made them hardened locals. The exception was Cliffy, who had visited many times while he finished college in Boulder, but he had moved up permanently the previous spring. This explained why his room was a corner of the hallway partitioned off with a hanging blanket. Sid and Jonny shared the one bedroom while Joneser lived in a small cage-like loft hanging from the ceiling.

Overcrowding, and filling apartments and houses beyond normal capacity was commonplace in all ski towns. The combination of high rent and low paying jobs required it. This often led to miserable living conditions with roommate drama, but the boys were successful because their similar personalities meshed perfectly together. No one strived for social dominance. If someone had a good story, or something to say, the others genuinely listened. In their own ways each of them contributed to the function of the apartment. And if any of them had a bad idea and needed encouragement, the others quickly added fuel to the fire.

The CD player randomly cycled on to the Peter Tosh hit ‘Legalize it’ and began to play. The boys grooved on the mellow beat and familiar scratch guitar. Sid spoke up, interrupting the chorus. “This song starts out strong, but then it kinda falls apart at the end.”

”What do ya’ mean?” asked Joneser.

“The goats and the ants,” answered Cliff knowingly.

“Yeah, exactly,” continued Sid nodding at Cliff. “It’s like Tosh set out to create the anthem that would lead the revolution to legalize ganja. This song was going to be the rallying cry for millions, so he comes up with all these valid reasons to legalize.”

The others shifted their gaze to Sid as they recognized a great stoner monologue forming before them. Johnny kept poking into his pipe, pulling out the spoke and wiping sticky resin on a paper towel. Sid went on, “First he explains that everyone in these important jobs, doctors, lawyers and judges all smoke it. Then he lists medical conditions that can be treated with THC like flu and asthma, and whatever the fuck ‘Thrombosis’ is. So far so good, then just like that, he goes off the rails, and is like...” Sid adopted a bad Jamaican accent, ‘I dunno mon, I can’t tink of anytin else.’ “So he comes up with ‘ants eat it and goats like to lay in it?’ Sid stopped for a moment and the song finished a chorus then went on to the verse he had just described.

Johnny listened to the line and agreed, “Yeah, that’s kinda dumb.”

Cliffy thought for a moment then said, “Maybe he smoked a spliff after he finished each verse, and by the time he got to that one he was just blazed out of his gourd.” Sid relaxed and sat back in the chair, feeling a sense of accomplishment for presenting his observation to the others.

Johnny felt he was making progress. Three quarters of the pipe were clean with one stubborn blob of goo sealing the narrow end of his one-hitter. His buzz had worn off and he was starting to crave one more puff before calling it a day. “Do you guys know how Peter Tosh died?” Johnny asked, indicating he had a story to add to the topic.

Joneser answered, “He was shot.”

Johnny nodded and continued “Yeah, but here’s the thing. At the time he was like, an international reggae super star with gold records and world tours, and he got shot in a Kingston ghetto over a drug deal gone bad!”

Joneser shook his head incredulously and started to say “Dude, that’s not what…”

“Seriously!” Johnny cut him off, “I’m telling you; drugs always get you in the end.” Johnny arranged himself for one final push. He cupped the pipe in one open palm while he pushed the sharpened spoke as hard as he could into the pipe with his other hand. Suddenly, the resin plug let go and Johnny let out a gasp as he instantly pushed the spoke through the pipe, through his palm and out the backside of his left hand. He let go of the spoke and held both hands out in front of him like a wide-eyed magician revealing the Amazing Balancing Cigarette trick!

The others reacted in horror and awe as if high voltage had just run through them, sitting bolt upright and yelling. Johnny snapped out of his shock, grabbed the spoke and yanked it back out of his hand. This garnered another round of pained and disgusted cries from the other three.

“DUDE! We could have cut the end off and just pulled it though!” exclaimed Sid with a baffled look on his face. Cliffy jumped into action and ran for the first aid kit in the bathroom. The apartment may frequently run out of toilet paper and laundry soap, but the first aid kit was a sacred necessity always kept replenished. Cliff helped Johnny clean the wound with iodine and applied a bandage as Sid wiped up drops of blood from the floor. Joneser held up the one hitter with the bloody spoke still sticking through it and stared at it in awe. He wiped the resin and blood off the spoke with the paper towel, pulled the pipe off the spoke and wiped the end. Then he stuck it in his mouth and blew through it. Finally, with an approving nod, he said, “This is really clean now”.