Sour Puss by H.O.C.

Sour Puss by House of Cultivar

Welcome back to toasted n’ posted for the unveiling of a very special strain. Many regard Purple Punch as a parent that often drains a cross of its punch, but not today. House of Cultivar has pulled out all of the stops and given this temperamental mother the perfect compliment. Sour Puss, also known as Sheeple, is the cross of Purple Punch and Triangle Kush. Yes, Triangle Kush, the famous influence that gives Wedding Cake its legs. There are countless reasons to get excited about Sour Puss. Let’s get crackin’.

The aroma touches down with the gentle grace of an hovercraft. My palate is suffocated by warm propulsion of pillowy grape. A soothing smoothie, rich with hashy undertones and floral syrup. Before I could truly soak up the essence of this nostalgic Purple Punch encounter, the Triangle Kush intervenes. A gnarled sour contorts the base of the juicy blanket. A firm herbal stab skewers my senses. The wound becomes vulnerable to opportunist fumes of tart gas. A jagged mist of challenging sour and sweet spice.

A gracious dewy tang invigorates the profile, extending its luscious duration to immeasurable lengths. Slick, sweet, and moist; Sour Puss does indeed invite a sour bite to lash at the back of your breath. Meadowy mist chases the corrosive vapors away, mending my wounds with earthy tones accented by subdued citrus. My tongue is cyclically disarmed by fuzzy fruit then chastised by scathing tang. A turbulent tango.

Break the bud, gaseous dam falls and a rampaging river of fruit punch is unleashed. Plump and feathery the foamy tide rolls towards my sinuses, replenishing my energy with its gentle song. A brisk chill is imbued onto the back of the cotton delivery. I find a slick grassy note grounds the aloof lusciousness and give it savory soil to bind to. The gentle Purple Punch bounty augments its approach. The nuances being absurdly tart cherry, smooth strawberry, and a whisper of red apple. The emergence is exhilarating, my heart pounds as I am pummeled with the amicable essence.

A masterful tribute to Purple Punch architecture. Sour Puss presents itself as massive slabs of glacial ice. Frozen hues imprisoned by the impassable blizzard of trichomes. Asphyxiated shadows paint these mauve mountains, my mind manifests ski trails out of the vibrant white veins weaving wildly across the mass. Discerning beyond the psychoactive storm, I discover blackened depths of color.

Saturated eggplant washes over the crystalline planet like the falling night sky. Complete and unrelenting, the jacket of shadow smothers the demeanor of Sour Puss. A byproduct of the rich color, rogue petals of tarnished olive manage to plume out in unexpected places. Sour Puss is a shining example of a stable phenotype. With plump calyxes practically fossilized by trichomes, this flower is fit for the cover of High Times. A delectable spectacle.

Leaf to flame, my mouth is flooded with peppered sweetness. Tangy citrus burgeons forests of vigorous pine-driven zest. My nose pinches and contorts as my tongue struggles to accept the tart intensity. A green apple pie set aflame with sylvan spice and grape hash kindling. Chalky cherry mists over a grape bite to drill its essence deep into my flesh.

Emanating from the smoldering sweetness are explosive geysers of roasted diesel bounce. Smoked vanilla and cindered hay straw lingers on my palate. The note, in a breath, chars and salves my throat with its creamy personality. A wake finishing into subdued lemongrass and a refreshing Gatorade lick.

My mind is sprung awake by the lively profile. My tongue feels like it is simultaneously swelling and stimulated by a field of alien electricity. The arcs bridge to my synapses, reprogramming them with strange motivations and haphazard thoughts. My consciousness slowly drips out of my ears and reassembles above my skull.

My perspective, a shifting cloud hovering above my body. Distant, but somehow more attuned, I’m enchanted by my interim astral projection. My new frequency charges me to be giggly, amused, and carefree. A demigod chuckling from a high cloud, I feel both detached and depraved.

There is an ultimate freedom experienced when you are liberated from your physical shell. Eventually, my spiritual excursion comes to a close and my tethered soul is reeled back towards my vessel. The reentry is taxing, I feel my eyelids fall low and my stamina depleted. A journey of boundless wisdom comes with a tax of utter exhaustion.

This is hands down the best Purple Punch cross that I’ve ever had. I’d assumed Slurricane would’ve taken this place, but Triangle Kush proves a more potent parent than Dosidos. I highly recommend getting this strain, especially if you’ve found yourself disappointed by lackluster interpretations of Purple Punch in the past. This flower delivers in practically every way you can imagine. Way to go House of Cultivar! As always, thanks for reading.

Sour Puss score: 95/100

Aroma – 20

Physical – 20

Flavor – 19

Consistency – 18

Sensation – 18

Stay high and stay blessed,

Kushman Bonglegs

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