Tales Of A Mook: The Mystery Burgah


A few days ago, “Thirsty Thursday” to be exact, I was enjoying myself at your typical college shebang. By typical I mean I was surrounded by; Zoots, more mushes than burgahs, loud music and lets not forget the plethora of red solo cups. This was just my kind of party.

As the night began to unfold, I found myself consuming more alcoholic beverages than planned, which is not a problem because…well frankly I was trying to get saucy and test the waters with these burgahs. So after guzzling down a couple of two tree drinks you could say I was “feelin’ it.” I found myself dancing with random mooks, which is exactly what I was planning on doing. After a few songs, this out of shape twenty year old got a little parched and needed a drink to quench my thirst. This is where the night takes a twist.

As I’m walking over to grab some drink, this random burgah comes up to me and says, “Hey I like your hat a lot.” This completely caught me off guard and I didn’t know what to say back, so I mumbled, “Uhhh I like your uhhh Jacket?” I could tell she knew I was lying but she giggled and went along with it. At this moment,  I’m like woah, because my pley radar is going nuts. After a moment of some smiling and awkward silence  she drops a question,” hey wanna come smoke a spliffe with me.” This is where I bit my toungue to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. In fact, I was not dreaming, so as you know I obviously said yes, and we went on our way.

The tables have turned here because usually  I am the one asking  the burgah to do this. We start zooting, talking, and enjoying ourselves. It was culture at its finest, she was clearly digging the mook and not going to lie I was digging her. During my past encounters when zooting with burgahs, the burgah always gets too zooted and can’t keep up with your boy. This is when I usually give them the axe and regret zooting them up. This was different case though, she got funnier and cuter as the sploiffe got smaller. Things were going smooth and the only thing holding me back from letting out a nice loud “LEEE PLEYYY” was the fact that my pley radar was going wild, so I kept it cool.

Post sploiffe we were still on the couch chatting it up like two old pals. After a few moments, I make the crucial mistake by getting up to greet to some friends that just walked in the door. When I turn around to find the burgah, she was no where to be found. I made a few glances at my surroundings, but still no where to be found. I had failed to get her number or her name. I have a mystery burgah on my hands, and its no pley. Disappointed in myself, I went back to the couch where we blazed and killed a few more brews while I pondered about this mystery burgah.

Everyone has had a mystery burgah encounter, so i’m encouraging all to find that mystery burgah and #GetCultured.

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