It’s the first day of school and you’re rushing to class up the forth flight of stairs when the school-bell rings. You’re late, not the best first impression to make with your new teacher. You burst through the door and swiftly occupy the nearest empty seat hoping the teacher won’t notice you. The teacher had just finished writing upon the board: classroom 4-20 — weekend assignment. He pauses for a moment. You begin to sweat nervously, you’re certain he’s about to slam you for your late arrival. You bury your head in your arms behind your bag. He clears his throat and in a bit of dreadful curiosity you peer over your backpack. He lifts a messenger bag from behind his desk and sets it atop it. He said softly “Today I have somethin’ for erryone.” You can’t shake your anxiety, you’re certain that he knows you were late. He turns back to the board. “Somethin’ that’s very important to me,” he continues. His voice began to sound familiar but you can’t place it. He reached up to adjust the board but he stood too close to read it. Was he writing down your name? How would he have known your name? You were the last person to arrive, probably last on the roster. You glance around at everyone to see if they had name-tags but they only had a relaxed expression on their faces. Maybe he’d already taken role? He turned around to unfasten the bag as thousands of blunts spring forth from the satchel. Cannabis confetti littered the room. All the cogs start turning in your head as you glance up at the board that now reads “grassroom 420 — weed grassignment”, you realize that your teacher is Snoop Dogg right as he begins ripping into a bong shaped like dollar sign. You accidentally enrolled into weed school.