otago massacre

when I read their signs I go into an epileptic fit

funk that. a store with a name that is a pun of “fuck that”. right from the moment your eyes are insulted by it’s shopfront 50 meters away, you just know this store is class.
the guy who owns the store (“the funk that guy”) is one dodgy mother fucker. he makes his living through evading every laws using loopholes and by selling crack cocaine to school children. he imports stuff that no-one can (wants to?) because he imports them broken down or stuffed in my-little-pony dolls. just so you and I can take our drugs more efficiently.
also so we can buy ninja stars and big swords and posters of cannabis smoking aliens (probably, I’m not sure of that but every lame store like this has those “bring me to your dealer” – “lol”). you can buy all your legal “highs” although I’m convinced the down you get from those “highs” outweigh any shuddery benefit.
have I mentioned the store front is highlighter green? did I mention you can buy cannabis growing equipment? what about tacky-as-fuck zippo lighters? what about weed tins that have pictures of magic mushrooms on them?
what about coloured contacts? or misleading signs for round the clock “tattoos”?

at least it’s mostly cheaper than cosmic corner, which is ironic because when I google “funk that dunedin”, the third link is cosmic corner (without a real link to funk that in sight)