(From “Target Comics” volume 2, number 6, 1941.)
Maybe if I keep nervously twisting this hemp rope I’ll get a contact high through my fingers? By next year?
[Herr D yawns, has been up too long–that took five tries to type–bedtime.]
That’s a total non-sequitur there.
Hey, get your own dealer!
Hey sir….nope he’s dead….oh well -pockets his dope- XD
Arr matey come sail aboard the Cheech&Chong on the high seas.
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