Farooq is one of those immigrants. You know the type. He moved here from his native Pakistan, got married, and raised American kids in America. He has also stubbornly clinged to the ways of his homeland, imposing his preferences and prejudices on his American sons. They must be perfect Muslims, even though they aren't remotely Muslim. They should fast during Ramadan. Not so much as a stick of gum. Pork? Nizzar, please. And god forbid they have a non-Muslim, non-veiled mate.
And Farooq is a dick about it.
He's in the hospital right now. He feels horrible. Doctors are scrambling to find out why. He had a theory, so he called his son. "How old were those cookies?" Farooq asked his baffled son. It turns out the old man had helped himself to some cookies in the son's refrigerator. After some soul-searching, the son decided to admit that his dad had severe marijuana poisoning. "You're supposed to eat one cookie, not a dozen."
Odds of Farooq admitting that he's baked? Nil.
And so he groans on in the hospital, praying five times a day for relief. And that no one thinks to test him for THC.