It’s my first Friday Fictoneer’s entry! You can read the prompt here: http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/01/29/31-january-2014/

Cricket stumbled into her position on the factory floor. There were piles of bud to seed. It must not go out with seeds in it. The seeds belonged to the factory owners.

Demand was up, up, up. Cricket was down, down, down.

A little wouldn’t hurt.

Cricket smoked to her hearts content. She woke many hours later when it was dark. Everyone was gone.

The ganja had worn off. The sign made sense. No smoking in the factory.