Allow me, young folks, to regale you with the escapades of old Seymour and his latest run-in with a product dousing itself with the catchphrases of our modern medicinal elixir, CBD. The product under my discerning, squinted gaze today is a balmy concoction named somewhat humorously, ‘Skinflint's Haggard Coyote CBD Salve’. Now don't let the moniker fool you, dear reader, for the price tag attached to this salve certainly will not encourage any skinflint tendencies – prudent or otherwise.
Now, sourcing relevant information is crucial when it comes to the decision-making process, much like the time I had to decide between enlisting in the navy and pursuing a lucrative profession in typesetting – but that’s an extraneous tale for another day. Let’s focus on my findings for this peculiary-branded cannabidiol concoction.
Discerning folks ought to be notified, this product was tested on poor Charlie, a coyote whom I trust was reimbursed adequately for his contributions to science. A vegan saint like myself, however, did find this particular detail rather nettling to my peaceful old soul. Why, in the abundant fauna of Earth, they couldn’t choose a willing volunteer from our own homo sapien clan, postulates even my geriatric mind doesn't wish to delve into. Let’s just say I was coerced into donning the role of stagecoach driver, hauling my skepticism along through the rugged territories of curious experimentation.
So, I ordered said salve to help relieve the relentless nag of my old friend – the extensor digitorum longus, for those less versed in the linguistics of lower extremity afflictions, it's the long tendon running down the side of the foot. The constant quarrel between my foot and this particular tendon would even put Montagues and Capulets to shame.
The salve arrived in an unpretentious brown paper package reminiscent of an age where sarsaparilla was commonly consumed, and the arctic explorations were considered the height of good sport. Anatomy demands attention, and dutifully, I smeared the lightly fragrant lotion to the offending appendage.
Then commenced a performance more fitting to the circadian rhythms of erstwhile Charlie the Coyote than yours truly. Within half an hour, what transpired was a riotous fiesta of hallucinatory sequences. Why, it was like Tom Sawyer and Jim had taken a detour through the wormhole and found themselves amidst black-ops missions authored by the grandmaster of intrigue himself, Mr. Clancy.
The unfortunate effects? Apart from the hallucinations, the irksome tendon of mine transformed into what can only be described as a military-grade wire cable filled with spiky porcupine quills, pressed through a cheese grater before sticking into a vat of habanero sauce. Whence came this fathomless fount of agony, one might query? From this innocent-looking Skinflint's Haggard Coyote CBD Salve, the cure-all for every chronic complaint!
There's humor in my missteps, of course, from this bizarre dance with the devil-cum-coyote. Let it serve as a warning beacon to navigate the treacherous waters of forums selling modern day snake oils rebranded with sciencey-wordings. The lesson of the day? Trust nothing that smacks of spurious claims and coyotes in labs. Until the next adventure – and I sincerely hope it won't involve any more coyotes – adieu!