There's a man who's dying of an obscure variety of parrot fever. His young son hears about a biker who's probably the only one who can cure the diseased man. The biker is summoned .
"Sure I can cure him, kid" he says, "But I'll need some special herbs: Some psyllium, a bit of juniper, and a handful of holly"
"Holly, sir? as in Hollywood?"
"Don't be daft!
Holly, the weed, son"
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