Happy Fried-day! Besos the Pen: My $80 Date with a Disposable That Ghosted Me Harder Than My Ex
Happy Fried-day! Besos the Pen: My $80 Date with a Disposable That Ghosted Me Harder Than My Ex
It was a classic Friday. I’d just wrapped a long day of pretending to be a responsible adult, and the only thing on my mind was getting properly fried. I scrolled the menu like a man possessed and spotted it: Besos Disposable – Papaya Punch Diamonds, 2g. The reviews said “smooth hits,” “long-lasting,” and “tastes like vacation.” Sold. I hit “order” faster than Bezos buys another yacht.
Forty minutes later the doorbell rings. I open it looking like a raccoon that just discovered DoorDash. The delivery guy hands me the package with that knowing half-smile. We both know what’s inside. I close the door, crack the seal, and take that first glorious pull.
Holy shit. This thing hits like a velvet hammer. Smooth, sweet papaya terps dancing on the tongue, zero harshness. Within ten minutes I was fried to perfection — the kind of high where your couch feels like a cloud and every thought is genius. I named the pen “Besos” because it kept giving me little kisses of euphoria.
Then the trouble started.
I decided Besos and I were soulmates. We were going to conquer the night. First mission: cook the greatest frozen pizza known to man. I preheated the oven to “whatever,” threw on extra toppings while giggling at my own reflection in the toaster. Halfway through, I took another fat rip off Besos and had a profound realization: “What if I put the pizza inside the microwave and the oven at the same time? Double cooked = double flavor.”
Reader, it did not.
Twenty minutes later the kitchen looked like a low-budget disaster movie. Smoke alarm screaming, pizza somehow both burnt and frozen in the middle, and me standing there holding Besos like a microphone, rapping terrible freestyle about “papaya dreams and melted cheese schemes.”
I took the pen outside for “fresh air” and ended up in a 45-minute conversation with my neighbor’s cat. I’m pretty sure we solved world hunger. The cat just stared at me like, “Bro, you’re too high for this dimension.”
By 2 a.m. Besos and I were cuddling on the couch watching infomercials. I told the pen my deepest secrets. It never judged. It just kept hitting. Until… it didn’t. That beautiful 2g diamond-filled bastard had ghosted me. Dead. No blinks, no vapor, nothing. I shook it, begged it, even tried the old “blow in the cartridge” trick like it was 2008 Nintendo. Nothing.
Besos had given me the best four hours of my week and then left without saying goodbye. Typical disposable behavior.
Fried Wisdom of the Week Sometimes the smoothest highs come with the shortest lifespans. Treat your pens (and your lungs) right — take tolerance breaks, don’t chain them like a fiend, and maybe invest in a real rig once in a while. But damn if those Besos hits aren’t worth the eventual heartbreak.
Would I order another? …Already in the cart.
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