They’re baked but are they really stoned?

It’s 2 am. You and your follow drug buddies have put the Playstation controllers down and have decided to venture out of the Batcave in search of munchies. You find yourself aimlessly roaming the aisles of the all-night grocery store. You’re squinty-eyed, reeking of weed and seriously fucked up—the last extra-deep bong hit sent you into the next stratosphere of stoniness. Out from the safety of your crib, you’re paranoid and can’t trust—let alone communicate with—anyone except your mates who are in an equally bewildered state of highness. The fluorescent lights are buzzing hard, a Musak version of Kiss’ Beth is playing on the PA and that keener stock boy at the end of the snack and candy aisle is onto you. You’re on a mission: Get in, get the goods and get out without drawing too much unwanted attention to yourselves.

You’re on a mission: Get in, get the goods and get out without drawing too much unwanted attention to yourselves.

“Whoa… what’s this? Stoned Wheat Thins? Hello!”

“Dude, check this out. These crackers are called STONED Wheat Thins. How cool is that?”

“Man, my grams eats those with her tea.”

“No, seriously! Why would you call them ‘STONED’ Wheat Thins?”

“Maybe they get you stoned.”

“Maybe ‘Stoned Wheat’ is code for weed.”

“That would be sweet!”

“Maybe the guys who make these are, like, stoned when they make them.”

“Yeah, like those Keebler elf guys.”

“Maaaaan, those little guys are just plain creepy. I don’t want those little pudgy elf fingers touchin’ my chow!”

“Maybe, but how cool would it be to live in a killer tree house smokin’ weed and makin’ cookies all day?”

“True. And those little elf chicks are kind of hot.”

“Dude! There’s no elf chicks. You need help, bro!”

“Oh shit!”

“What?”

“We’ve been staring at this pack of crackers for, like, forever, Stock Boy has probably called 9-1-1!”

“We gotta go! Grab that thing and let’s get outta here.”

Gourmet version:

Stoned Wheat Thins + Tabasco sardines = Spanish bliss!