Edibles
Edibles: A Case Study in Self-Sabotage
A Semi-Professional Guide to Accidentally Canceling Your Shift
In the field of medicinal ingestion, there exists a particularly deceptive subset of consumption: the edible. Unlike its more immediate counterparts—such as the classic inhaled variety—edibles follow a delayed onset metabolic absorption process, also known as “Wait… why isn’t this working?” syndrome. This unfortunate lag time often leads to catastrophic miscalculations, resulting in individuals rendering themselves temporarily unfit for duty.
Today, we examine the case of a night-shift security officer who, through a severe lapse in dosage judgment, found himself classified as "Out of Service" during a critical period of professional vigilance.
The Subject: A Night-Shift Security Guard With Too Much Confidence
Our subject, a seasoned night-shift security guard (hereafter referred to as “The Guard”), was accustomed to long hours of extreme nothingness. His job description included:
- Staring at security monitors that displayed the same still image for six hours straight.
- Conducting strategic perimeter patrols (i.e., scrolling on his phone in a golf cart).
- Occasionally flashing his flashlight at an empty parking lot to assert dominance.
Boredom was his greatest adversary, and thus, in an act of what can only be described as pharmaceutical hubris, The Guard decided that just a tiny edible wouldn’t hurt.
Phase One: The Dosing Miscalculation
At approximately 2230 hours (10:30 PM for civilians), The Guard executed Phase One of the Edible Deployment Protocol (EDP). This consisted of the ingestion of a medically ambiguous dosage of a commercially available cannabis-infused gummy bear.
Initial assessment of physiological effects yielded no significant deviations from baseline consciousness. In layman’s terms: “Bro, I don’t feel anything.”
At 2300 hours, against all better judgment and prevailing scientific literature, The Guard initiated Phase Two of EDP: he took another dose.
A fatal error.
Phase Two: The Medicinal Betrayal
At 0000 hours (midnight), the first signs of critical system failure became evident. The Guard reported:
- Heightened auditory perception ("Why can I hear the electricity in the lights?")
- Delayed cognitive processing ("Wait… what was I just thinking about?")
- Uncontrollable muscle relaxation ("Why do my legs feel like cooked spaghetti?")
By 0030 hours, The Guard had entered a Level 5 Cannabis-Induced Stupor (CIS) and became entirely non-operational.
- The security monitors became mesmerizing digital artworks.
- The flashlight transformed into a sacred artifact of unknown purpose.
- The golf cart felt like a high-speed spaceship traveling at an alarming 3 mph.
His mental faculties had formally resigned.
Phase Three: The Supervisor Encounter
At 0130 hours, an unexpected environmental hazard emerged: Supervisor Steve.
Supervisor Steve was notorious for random night patrol inspections, ensuring that security personnel were not engaging in extracurricular napping.
Unfortunately, The Guard was experiencing an extreme case of Cannabis-Induced Sedation (CIS) and was found in the fully reclined position—also known in security training manuals as “The Forbidden Nap Stance.”
At this moment, two possible outcomes existed:
- Immediate Termination: Resulting from Supervisor Steve identifying the subject as being under the influence of medicinal miscalculation.
- Miraculous Survival: If Supervisor Steve failed to notice due to his own lack of engagement with workplace responsibilities.
By a stroke of cosmic fortune, the latter occurred.
Supervisor Steve, upon finding nothing stolen, broken, or on fire, gave a single approving nod and left the premises—assuming that The Guard was merely deeply engaged in some form of advanced observational strategy.
Crisis averted.
Phase Four: The Munchie Apocalypse
By 0330 hours, The Guard had transitioned from Cannabis-Induced Sedation (CIS) to Nutritional Deficiency Panic (NDP).
A total breakdown of dietary discipline ensued, leading to the consumption of:
- Three stale vending machine burritos
- Two mystery-flavored energy drinks
- A fistful of peanut M&Ms (origin unknown)
- A bottle of ranch dressing (because why not?)
Despite these desperate countermeasures, the full system reboot would not complete until 1000 hours the next morning.
Final Analysis & Recommendations
Key Takeaways:
- Edibles are not a “quick fix” to boredom. They are a legally sanctioned rollercoaster ride with an undisclosed duration.
- Dosing is not a joke. If you’re thinking, “Maybe I should take more because I don’t feel anything yet,” DO NOT.
- The sleep paralysis demon known as Supervisor Steve is real, and he WILL check on you at the worst possible moment.
- No amount of vending machine burritos will undo your mistakes.
Final Recommendation:
Edibles should be treated with the same level of respect as high-voltage electrical equipment or wild animals. If misused, they will incapacitate you.
If you must medically engage, ensure that:
- You have no professional obligations within a 24-hour window.
- You do not double-dose like a fool.
- You are not responsible for security, heavy machinery, or—God forbid—customer service interactions.
Edibles are wonderful, but they are not merciful.
And most importantly: DO NOT TAKE MORE JUST BECAUSE IT HASN’T KICKED IN YET. That’s how you become a Night-Shift Security Legend.
