Hamm Wings

It was early, the sun just beginning to peek over the horizon, and with the morning light… came Hamm.

“Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude,” he exclaimed in a drawn-out, exaggerated manner. “What’s wrong with you?” Ray asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Look!” Hamm shouted, holding up an empty ziplock bag with a few green crumbs. “We’re out!”

Ray squinted at the nearly empty bag, then sighed knowingly, “Damn, well I can hit up ‘The Plug’ if you want me to,” he said.

“I don’t know man, the Plug is kinda… weird,” Hamm says back, rolling up the empty ziplock bag and putting it in his pocket.

“Then what else do you want to do? The Plug finds his shit, you know Curtain Isle is stocked full of bud, it’s just hidden around in random ass places. It’s annoying to get,” Ray says back.

“Is that why we usually buy from the Plug?”

“Yeah, otherwise we’d be out all day on some wild-ass goose hunt.”

“I guess we can hit him up, ’cause I need me my morning bong bowl, and it’s making me upset I can’t have it,” Hamm says.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just call him up and tell him we’ll be there shortly,” Hamm says, slipping on his walking shoes. “Okay, I’ll give ’em a call,” he says before entering his room.

A few minutes go by and Ray walks back out of his room, already donning his shoes and coat.

“He said swing by whenever.”

“Bet,” Hamm replied, standing up before putting on his coat, “Let’s not keep him waiting, the sooner we get this green goodness the better.” Ray laughed, opening the door and stepping out, Hamm following closely behind.

As they walked down the street, Hamm couldn’t help but get engrossed in a soft sound in the distance. “Do you hear that?” he asks.

“Kinda, but it’s hard to make out,” Ray responds, adjusting his glasses. They followed the sound, each twist and turn leading them closer to the noise.

“Wait,” Hamm says, stopping in his tracks, Ray alongside him, “What is it?”

“It’s hella close, I just can’t figure out where it is,” Hamm says, looking around carefully.

“Dude! Come here, look,” Ray calls out, Hamm turns around and sees Ray a few feet away, near a pile of rocks. Hamm approaches, the sound getting louder as he does.

“I found the source,” Ray says, pointing to one of the rocks.

“The rocks are making the noise?” Hamm asks concerned.

“No, look closer.”

Hamm crouches down and leans in closer to the rock. There, he sees a small group of pebbles playing tiny instruments.

“Heh, neat,” Hamm says. “Good job little dudes, keep it up.”

“Thank you,” one of the pebbles says, their music coming to an end.

“What’s your band name?” Ray asks before snickering.

“Murder Porn Computer Glitch,” one responds. Hamm and Ray look at each other with wide eyes before laughing loudly.

“That’s fucking awesome,” Hamm says, “Got a mixtape?”

One of the pebbles hops down off the rock and crawls into a nearby hole. He comes back not too much later with a white envelope.

“Here,” the pebble says, holding the envelope in the air, although it didn’t look like he moved at all. Hamm bends down and grabs the envelope and the pebble before setting him back down on the rock and putting the envelope in his pocket. “Cool, see y’all dudes around.”

Hamm and Ray turn and continue walking down the street, the Plug’s house getting closer and closer.

Soon, they arrived at “The Plug’s Domain,” a vibrant structure covered in psychedelic graffiti. The window seemed to wink at them as they approached. “Did that window just wink at us?” Hamm says as they approach the Plug’s front door. “Probably.”

“Pst, hey,” a voice calls from the left. Hamm and Ray turn and see the window staring at them. “Yeah?” Ray says back. “Got any crack?” the window says, its eyes widening, pupils turning a solid black.

“Crack? Seriously?” Hamm chuckles, finding the situation more absurd than alarming.

“Nah, we don’t have any crack,” Ray replies, shaking his head at the strange request. “We’re here for something greener, we could give you some if you want.”

“Dude,” Hamm whispers, elbowing Ray. “What?” Ray says back, “It’s better than crack.”

“Yeah, but that’s our stash. I don’t wanna share it with a crack addict window,” Hamm pleas. The window stares at them for a moment, then narrows its eyes and nods knowingly. “Ah, y’all here for the Plug?”

“Yes we are,” Hamm says happily, rubbing his hands together, a wide grin on his face.

“Wait here.” The window slides open, revealing a narrow space within the wall. After a brief shuffling sound, it slides shut again. Moments later, the door creaked open, revealing a creature like no other. “The Plug” was a fascinating sight—a multi-eyed being with arms sprouting from its head (different from his normal ones. These would flail around randomly, often knocking stuff over on accident), resembling a mix of an octopus and a chameleon.

“Hey, hey! Hamm and Ray, my buds!” exclaimed the Plug, eyes darting in all directions. “What can I do for you today?”

“Hey man, we need some primo bud, got anything good?” Hamm says, his wide grin still plastered on his face.

The Plug’s eyes widened in excitement, their pupils shifting like kaleidoscopes. “Oh, I got just the thing for you two! Freshly harvested ‘Sticky Icky Sunshine’ and ‘Galactic Ganja Glitter’—top-shelf quality!”

Hamm and Ray exchange amused glances. “Those names though,” Ray chuckled.

“Haha, yeah, they sound out of this world,” the Plug adds, laughing alongside him.

“So, what’s the damage for, let’s say, a half-ounce of Sticky Icky Sunshine?” Ray inquired, stroking his non-existent chin.

The Plug’s eyes swirled and twinkled as if calculating. “A half is usually 70 Essent Coins…” he trails off.

“Awwwwwww, don’t bust our balls, man,” Hamm says, “We’re good friends, right?” he adds, smiling. The Plug grinned—or at least, the closest it could to a grin. “Alright, alright, how about a 30% discount, that sounds fair?”

“That’s fair, that’s fair,” Hamm agrees with a nod.

“Great! So that’ll be 50 Essent Coins,” the Plug says, his arms enthusiastically flailing in approval. Ray reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small baggie of coins. “Here you go,” he says, tossing the bag to him.

The Plug catches the bag effortlessly with one of his flailing arms. “Enjoy the voyage, my dudes!” he exclaims, waving at them with his normal arm.

They left the Plugs ‘domain’ with a hefty bag of that green goodness, smiles plastered on their faces. They retreated down the graffiti-filled street, the sound of sirens with the occasional mix of crackheads asking them if they want a blowjob for a nickel filled the air.

“Hey, check this out,” Ray says, pointing to an alley up ahead. “Maybe it’s a shortcut.”

“I don’t know man, seems sketch, don’t wanna wake up to a missing kidney and a loose asshole,” Hamm says back.

“Nah, trust,” Ray says back, walking into the alley. Hamm hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and followed Ray into the alley. The morning light barely touched the walls, giving it an almost eerie vibe. As they ventured deeper into the alley, the sound of the bustling street behind them began to fade, replaced by the distant hum of the city awakening.

“Yo, check it out,” Hamm says excitedly, pointing to an old, weathered dumpster tucked into a nook between two buildings. “A dumpster?” Ray asks, confused.

“Yeah, man. Dumpster diving, never heard of it?”

“You mean like... going through trash?” Ray asked, trying to grasp the concept. “Yeah, it’s weird but trust, sometimes you can find some dope shit,” Hamm reassures.

Ray hesitates, not entirely convinced. “I don’t know, man. Seems kinda dirty, don’t you think?”

“Nah, trust me, it’s not as bad as it sounds,” Hamm says. “Let’s just take a quick peek, and if it’s not for us, we can bounce.”

Ray sighs, “Alright, but if I throw up…” he says, trailing off. “Just chill, it’ll be fun.”

They approached the dumpster slowly, the early morning light barely reaching this secluded spot. The stench of stale garbage wafted through the air, but Hamm seemed undeterred, already lifting the lid.

Amidst discarded boxes and papers, something caught Hamm’s eye—an old leather-bound journal. “Hey, look at this,” Hamm exclaimed, reaching in and retrieving the journal. It was worn and had a twinge of mystery about it. “Let’s see what’s inside.”

He hands the journal to Ray. Hay flipped through its pages, their curiosity growing with each passing moment. However, to their disappointment, the pages were blank except for the first page which read: “Name:”

“Weird,” Ray commented, “Why would someone throw away a blank journal?”

Hamm shrugged, “I don’t know, but it’s pretty boring and I’m missing my bowl, ready to go home?” Ray nods, “Yeah, I’m taking the journal though,” he says.

“If you want,” Hamm replies, starting to walk. Ray followed close behind, tucking the journal under his arm. They make their way out of the alley, and back into the waking city.

As they head towards their place, they spot a man in an outlandish costume promoting a nearby store. “Dude, check this out,” Hamm says, pointing at the guy. He was wearing a chicken costume, twirling a sign that read, “Crazy Cluckers Discount Emporium.”

“Dude’s seriously committed to the cluck,” Ray remarks, chuckling. Hamm grins mischievously. “Hey, chicken man! Got any chicken-flavored bud?”

The guy stops twirling his sign and looks over at them. “Uh... sorry dudes, no chicken-flavored weed here.”

“Damn,” Hamm says with mock disappointment. “We’ll just have to stick to the regular stuff then.” The chicken-costumed man gives a thumbs up, his face expressionless, and resumes his twirling.

“Strange man,” Hamm says as they start walking back to their apartment.

They arrive at their apartment, Hamm eager to start his morning ritual.

“Wait, dude, do you still have the envelope from the pebbles?” Ray asks, shutting the door behind him.

“Oh shit, yeah I forgot about that,” Hamm responds, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the white envelope. Hamm carefully tears it open, revealing a small note and a CD.

He unfolds the note and begins reading:

“Hello, from the pebble band, Murder Porn Computer Glitch.

I hope you enjoyed our little concert, and per your request, here is our first mixtape, ‘How to Pimp the Sand Hoes.’ Enjoy!

Signed, MPCG.”

“That’s awesome,” Hamm says, putting the CD and note back into the envelope and setting it on the kitchen table. He sits on the couch and breaks out the baggie from the Plug. “Load that shit up,” Ray says, setting the journal on the table in front of them.

“I am, give me a minute, damn,” Hamm jokes, opening the baggie and smelling deeply. “Damn, this shit is gassy.”

Hamm pulls out his trusty grinder and begins work on the buds. He loads the bong, handing it to Ray. “Sire.”

Ray grabs the bong and lights it up, inhaling the milky white clouds.

Hamm glances over at the journal on the table and picks it up. “Can you get me a pencil when you’re done?” Hamm asks.

“Wow, a pencil huh? What, should I just let you use me like a dirty little pencil slut?” Ray jokes before laughing.

“You know what I mean, a pen then if that makes you feel better. My little wooden whore,” Hamm says back, chuckling.

Ray rolls his eyes before laughing and getting up. He walks over to their desk and grabs a pen.

“Here, what’s this for anyways?” Ray asks, handing Hamm the pen. “It says name,” Hamm says, “So I’m gonna put my name.”

Hamm writes his name and gives the pen to Ray, “Write your name too.” Ray takes the pen and jots his name under Hamm’s. Just then, the pages begin to flip rapidly, a blue glow emanating from the insides.

“Woah, what the hell is happening?” Ray asks. “I don’t know, but it’s fucking cool as shit,” Hamm responds, captivated by the blue hue.

Suddenly, the pages stopped flipping, revealing a page with the words “The Almanac” in handwritten print. Under it, a list of strains appeared: their names, descriptions, and general locations in red cursive. Near the back, another page is printed with “Dank Discoveries” but this page, unlike the first one, is blank.

Ray grabs the journal and flips through it. “Wait I want to see something,” Hamm says.

“What is it?”

“Go back to the first page, the one where we wrote our names.” Ray flips to the first page, their names now in a red cursive. “There,” Hamm says, pointing to the top left corner of the page where a little note appears.

“The Herbkeepers Journal,” Hamm and Ray say in unison. “Wonder who that is,” Hamm questions.

“Could be a Ganja Wizard,” Ray says, taking a puff from the bong. “Most likely, but it still doesn’t tell us who he is,” Hamm replies.

“All these other strains are hard to read, I can only read the first one,” Hamm says, squinting. “Oh wait, here’s another one I can read. The Golden Nug.”

“The Golden Nug?” Ray asks intrigued. “It says that it’s a fifteen-foot tall, three-foot wide golden nug.”

“We have to find that nug,” Ray says flatly. “Does it say where it’s at?”

“No, just the name and description, oh wait there’s something else, it’s just written very tiny,” Hamm says, squinting even harder than he was before. “To unlock the secrets of The Golden Nug, one must unlock all the other secrets first.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ray scoffs. “I don’t know,” Hamm admits. Just then, the text shifts, changing from what it originally said.

“What the hell,” Hamm says. “What?” Ray asks.

“The little riddle changed, it says something else now.”

“What does it say now?”

“It says: It means you gotta find the other strains before this one, fucking dumbass.”

“Damn, didn’t have to do us like that,” Hamm says before chuckling. “Alright, I guess we gotta find these other strains first,” he says.

“Well, what’s first?”

“The first strain is…”