Frosty Nugs

By Alan Shrake

Three beautiful budtenders living in Hollywood, with cannabis humor, romance, and an armed robbery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan Shrake
• Release date: Mar 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798201562908

Book preview

Chapter One

Ghost it out!  Ghost it out!

The budtender girls at Frosty Nugs on Santa Monica in West Hollywood cheered on a customer trying to hold in a hit from the dab rig on the counter in front of him, finally releasing the smoke coughing uncontrollably.

Cough, cough, cough, fogging his thinlines.

Hah, hah, hah, they celebrated.

He smiled loopily in a white Polo shirt and jeans.

Dabbing is the crack of cannabis, cough, cough.

That’s right, Mike, smiled tall, slender, Croatian Mua, brunette bun in a rainbow tube top, blue jean shorts, ruby pendant, and sultry voice.  You’ll be totally wasted for a couple of hours at least.

Yeah, be careful driving, Elena pointed, cute face and long brunette flo over a buxom white t imprinted with the flowerly dispensary logo and jeans.

And don’t forget your package, Stashley, blonde flo, smoky eyes, busty black mini and silver chain held up his black gift bag labeled with the Nugs logo, filled with eighth ounce packs of Purple Kush grown up in Humboldt.

Mike handed her the cash, taxes included, out the door, then reached for the bag, long red hair line receding.

Heh, heh, thanks, lifting it.  I like how they dab you up here even if you just buy a gram of shake.

We want to keep our customers satisfied, Mua smiled seductively.  Especially since you’re a regular.

It’s the low prices, high quality, free parking, but especially beautiful budtenders that keep me coming back.

He put a fiver in the tip jar.

Gracias, Mike, regresa por favor, Elena smiled. 

Por cierto, he waved making for the door.  Bye.

Stay Frosty, the budtenders waved before going back to their stations in the high ceilinged white room under screens showing bikini clad young women walking in the desert blazing prerolls, young dudes riding up to the convenience store on skateboards with blunts, and girls sucking sexily on cannabis lollipops.  LED boards listed the prices like a stock exchange.  The budtenders sold flower, prerolls, concentrates, vape pens, and edibles under glass countertops for inspection before purchase.  Plastic drawers held product.  Beverages and tinctures sat in refrigerators in back. 

Mike passed by the burly security guard seated on a high stool in the lobby by the front entrance dressed in blue uniform and hat.  Stacks of cannabis magazines lay on low wooden tables.

Have a good day, young man, the black guard with wavy hair and infectuous smile said.  Keep it OG.

Waving his hidden prison tatooed right bicep.

You, too, Mack, Mike waved before walking out to the vibrant Boulevard scene in the setting sun under the swirly, italic Frosty Nugs logo neon sign and girl banners making his way around the corner to the parking lot in back high as a kite.

I like him, Mu stocked prerolls in black plastic pop top tubes sealed for safety, inner forearm barbed wire heart tatoo working overtime.

Yeah, he’s a good guy, El said.  I’d do him.

Me, too, hah, hah, hah, Stash wiped down the dab rig with an alcohol pad to guard against spreadable diseases like herpes.

Dan Ohanian, the dispensary’s Armenian American owner, walked in from the back office in Lauren black and red checkered shirt, black pants, silver Rolex, slicked back hair, and trim beard.

Well, time to go.  Take a preroll of your choice.

Thanks, Dan, even the thirty dollar ones infused with wax? Mua asked.

Sure, Mua, you know how I like your music.

Thanks, you can come backstage at my next gig up at the Roxy.

I look forward to it, he smiled widely.

Bye, the girls waved walking up to the front door.

Have a good evening, ladies, Mack tipped his cap.

You, too, Mack, they smiled before walking out to the now dark street scene on a cool autumn evening, car lights and neon signs beckoning the night crowd.

Chapter Two

Ah, here we are, Emerald Village, Mu waved all around them, strings of light globes over the street glowing in changing colors.  A new Amsterdam of dispensaries, dab lounges, smoke shops, medical doctors, clubs, cafes, galleries, cannabis tourists, autism centers. 

And convenience stores, Elena added.  Let’s go to the 7-Eleven then home.  I have to buy some lighters.

Okay, Mua smiled over at her.  I’m glad we got that condo just up Sweetzer.  It’s a good deal at three thou a month.  And we don’t need a car.

And my boyfriend has his lowrider if we need it, El said as they walked down the Boulevard, a sight to see even amongst the other girls in their black minis and high heels hanging outside the clubs with the gay crowd.  They entered the 7-Eleven.

Greetings, Elena, the Sikh cashier in white turban, clothes, and long beard prayer gestured.

Hi, Nehal, Elena waved.  I need two black BiCs, please.

Okay, girlfriend, he took them from the display.

And I want these tall boys, Mu walked up from the cooler in back carrying five Cokes, setting them