Ahoy, buckaroos! Staff firmly in hand, I took a dive into the tumultuous seas of cannabidiol, the CBD if you may, with a product deviously christened as 'CBD Periscope'. Peculiar, yes, but my loins have survived more punishing storms than a curious name. Now, in the sagacious timeline of my existence, I've crossed swords with enough adversities that would make Lord Nelson himself shiver in his breeches, yet it was a lapse by a most esteemed physician which led me to steer my frigate towards this product.
In what could only be described as the antithesis of serendipity encountered at an ungodly hour, my doc informed that my 'constrictor of pharynx -superior' was as irritable as Rutherford B. Hayes in a Democrat gathering (I actually conversed with the bloke, folks…long story). Thus, commenced my idiosyncratic expedition into the world of CBD, of which the "CBD Periscope" painted a rather fetching portrait.
Designed with the strategic precision of a submarine's periscope, this tincture was to help navigate the hidden depths of my bodily pain with its seemingly promising components. However, to my dismay, this craft had been tested on none other than a fat, content Beluga whale, whose only crime was the involuntary partaking in the creation of a non-vegan friendly CBD. Much like the iceberg that sank the Titanic, this trivial fact was enough to send a frosty shudder down my spine.
Now, picture this: there I was, like a wily sea captain ready to explore the unknown, armed with my Periscope. A tincture, vibrantly packaged, promising as the dawn of a new day, containing nothing but the concentrated extract of our beloved Mother Nature's bounty. Fool that was me, never thought to question the source – be it plant-like or markedly mammalian.
The initial swig was as assertive as the first cannon fire on a foggy morn’ of battle. My sense of taste, already numbed by decades of exotic gastronomic journey was visibly taken aback by this bizarre burst of sensation – imagine biting into a rancid version of Lord Tennyson's 'Charge of the Light Brigade.'
Jabberwocky! That's what it was. The clock hadn’t struck thrice before a tingle started in the base of my cranium, spreading downwards, attacking my sense of reality with the ferociousness of an underfed Chechen tiger. The effects were as if stuck in a conundrum of Twain's wit and Clancy's suspense!
The pain, the original nemesis, around the throat – proverbial Medusa of my medical voyage – displayed an unprecedented defiance worthy of a Shakespearian tragedy. Hark! It was as if a simple attempt at sipping the traditionally comforting hot cranberry tea felt akin to tackling an ill-tempered grizzly with naught but a wooden spoon.
Lo and behold! The wolfish persistence of my predicament was a masterstroke by the Greek Fates, a tragic turn where CBD Periscope was the tragic hero and my throat, the scorned lover, cried into oblivion.
Undoubtedly, the expedition to unearth the treasures of pain management with 'CBD Periscope' was a spectacularly hair-raising ride. A Twain-like adventurous journey transformed into a Clancy-esque tale filled with tortuous episodes worthy of recount. It leaves me in a Journey to the Centre of the Earth-like maze— questioning, “Who let the dogs out?” Or better yet, "Who in God's name vetted the Beluga-tested, vegan-deserted, downright brutish CBD Periscope?"