Fraternity brothers disappointed after museum-hosted pot workshop revealed to be clay demonstration

When Joe Hudson opened his Instagram to check on to see if his latest class crush had posted any new thirst traps, he was pleasantly surprised to see that she had posted an advertisement about an on-campus pot workshop happening that day.

Autumn Parker, a self proclaimed indie alt-girl with zodiac signs and pronouns in her bio, usually posted content that Joe would usually consider “lame” (social justice infographics and links to fundraisers). Despite this, she did post the odd bikini pic, so he kept returning to her stories.

When he saw the words “pot” paired with the selfie she had posted, he knew he had made the right choice in opening the app.

“Looking for something to do with your Saturday? Get into our pot workshop, free to all!” her story read, and Joe immediately reacted with the fire emoji and passed the message along to five of his closest brothers without taking a second glance.

Sick, said brother Tanner. Free weed.

Finally our tuition is being used for something we want, added brother Jake.

They made plans to scope out the scene and packed disguises including fake mustaches and wigs that past hookups had left behind. Once the best quality pot was secured, they would spread the message to the rest of the fraternity and let the pledges fight over the leftovers.  

Joe got to the museums first, accidentally ending up in the admissions office first because he had never been to the museums in all five years of being a student.

He was met with an elderly woman sitting at a table with various tools and clay mounds speaking animatedly with a woman and her two children. He casually approached the table, eyes flicking between the presenter and the family.

Damn, he thought. What’s the hold-up? Why are they talking about education?

He picked up one of the many differently-colored jars and began to give it a slight shake. The presenter gave him a sharp glance with lips pursed until he set it back down, slightly embarrassed.

“Is this the pot workshop?” he asked.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” she nodded.

The rest of his group entered in time and formed a bubble around Joe.

“What’s taking so long?” asked Tanner.

“Fuck if I know,” said Joe. “This woman’s been talking to the plug forever.”

“Tourist,” remarked Jake. “You never make this small talk getting your weed. Never.”

The woman and her children left and Joe’s group was beckoned forward.

“Where’s the pot?” he asked.

“Well, you have to make it,” the presenter answered. “But I’m here to show you how using traditional methods.”

Very well, the brothers said, and began following her directions in sifting through dirt and rolling out the materials in the jars. It wasn’t until they had finished and made decently-shaped bowls that they realized that the pot advertised in the story was pottery, and not the weed they had been expecting. They left the museum in disappointment.

“This sucks,” said Tanner.

“My bad,” said Joe. “At least we can still use these to hold shit. You know how my roommate’s been pissing in bottles? He can use this now.”

“Are you sure the pot’s not in here?” said Jake, cracking open his clay jar to look inside.

As they hurried back to their fraternity house, they passed another group of excited boys from a different fraternity heading towards campus, whispering about the free pot event they had heard about. Joe and his brothers looked at each other and silently resolved to not warn them.