Discussing ... uh, Plants

We were still pondering this as we returned to the cabin. “No tracks either,” Jeff muttered aloud.

“The ground is pretty dry,” I observed. “Not great for capturing prints.”

“You'd still think there'd be something left behind,” insisted Jeff. “A track, some hair, something.”

“Like a big steaming pile of bear business,” Dave offered.

“Yes, like that.”

“Yet, we have none of that,” I observed. “Just a damaged face and a weird smell.”

“You noticed that as well?” Jeff checked. “ I thought I was imagining it. Or that it was some of the nearby weeds.”

Dave coughed loudly. “It probably was weed,” he muttered. “Tim was a bit of a pothead. I'm pretty sure that's why they were outside; so he could smoke up.”

I shook my head. “That wasn't it.”

“I know he was a pothead,” Dave insisted. “I wasn't happy about it but that's not why we were friends or anything.”

I worked to dismiss his concerns. “No worries, didn't mean to imply that if I did. I'm just trying to say that smell wasn't weed.” Dave gave me a curious look so I added “I've been to concerts before Dave; I am familiar with that smell. And like you had the first pothead friend.” After a moment's consideration, I continued again. “Mike was a friend of a friend but I think that still counts.”

“American potheads are so sad,” Jeff declared. “I tried marijuana last year when I was in Amsterdam. Didn't care for it. Too much spit.”

I wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. I considered this for a moment before responding. “So you'd know what it smells like then.”

“I know what good marijuana smells like,” Jeff stated. “That didn't smell like good marijuana. Bad marijuana maybe, mixed with something.”

“Yes. Quite.”