‘I think that — that anyone, the painter, the musician, the writer works in a — a kind of an— an insane fury. He’s demon-driven. He can get up feeling rotten, with a hangover, or with — with actual pain, and — and if he gets to work, the first thing he knows, he don’t remember that pain, that hangover — he’s too busy…” said one of my favorite writers, William Faulkner, in a 1957 reading from his book The Town.
I don’t know if Faulkner ever woke up in a drunk tank but there are four words that can be music to an El Paso County Jail inmate’s ears: Bobby Brown Bail Bonds. These alliterative four words made me a very content camper as I walked out of that jail after my little devils got me there with a hardy hangover on a mental health hold a few years ago. It was Bobby Brown whose bond got me released on my own recognizance so… Bobby Brown Best Buds sounded like my best bet after feeling demon-driven and hungover again and needing to burn one and blaze some black gunion.
The location is right in the corazón of our city — on Nevada Avenue and only a five minute walk from Colorado Springs Police Department headquarters. After a pregnant budtender checks me in and waddles to unlock the door, I’m taken aback by the petite purchasing area (the building is shared with Bobby Brown Bail Bonds). The MMJ delicacies more than make up for it and I feel better knowing the pregnant MMJ sommelier has little to walk.
The aftertaste is like rock candy and it melts in my mouth.