The Adventures of Wyatt Derp in the Mild Mild West!
Todays Story: A Legend is Born.
It was the best of times for other people. I, WyattDerp, roamed the plains of Oklahoma with my generic analogs in my pocket and a tingle in my throat. Sucking down the last Mentholatum stick in my cancer box, I was determined to make a change. "Wyatt," I said to myself, "You must be dagburn fool to keep your volunteer job being a smokestack. Spend your money wiser and buy a rifle and some bullets if you want to pay to kill yourself."
At that point, I decided to make a change, Michael Jackson style. Instead of throwing jackets at hungry kids, I picked up a PV kit from my local PV shop. I started out with a Joye 510 kit which had rave reviews. I looked at the buckaroo and "This thing can't bust a grape." I waited my 8 hours to charge like the booklet said to and proceeded to bring the winds my direction. My first drag of a PV, felt like cold water to the sternum, a wrenching in my chest. I coughed and choked, like a young boy taking his first drag of a cigarette from the original RedBox. I noticed that nothing happened until I awoke the next morning to find that I no longer needed the hard stuff.
I officially died and was reborn as WyattDerp, respecter of women and children and Aerator of the midwest. I decided that I don't mind being the dude who gets the Spanish inquiry from every greenhorn who wants to ask about my PV, as the Derp obliges. Any way to spread the Ecig gospel is worth it to me. I now vape a trail from county to county riding my trusty steed Focus, my 2003 car with a LOTR sticker on the back window. I shall tell the tale of the PV, friend of cowboy and bandito alike. Ride on PV'ers Ride on.
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