Don’t be half-baked when you’re totally baked

Josh Heytvelt is in deep shiitake.

The talented Gonzaga University basketball player is charged with felony possession of a controlled substance due to a baggie of psychedelic mushrooms and some chocolate shroom-laced muffins found in the gold SUV Heytvelt was driving in Cheney the night of Feb 9.

This raises many questions, not the least of which is …

Who the heck puts magic mushrooms in chocolate muffins?

As of yet no charge has been filed against Heytvelt’s co-rider, Theo Davis, who was allegedly carrying the world’s tiniest and butt-ugliest roachlet.

COLUMNIST ASIDE – The last name of the county prosecutor involved in this mushroom and marijuana case is Grasso. And some people don’t think God has a sense of humor.

Heytvelt, according to a police report, denied the mushrooms contained in a black backpack were his.

He reportedly indicated that he thought they belonged to a friend who had borrowed his car for a couple of days.

Could what Heytvelt is saying really be the truth and muffin but the truth?

Anything’s possible, I guess.

Anna Nicole Smith, for example, might win a posthumous lifetime achievement award at the Oscars.

My hair might grow back.

Sorry to be so cynical. But I’ve grown calloused watching too many episodes of “Cops,” where every arrest follows a similar script.

A police officer will ask a suspect, “Are you carrying anything I should know about?”

To which the malefactor will respond, “No.”

Then the cop will search the suspect’s car or the suspect’s pants and – lo and behold – start discovering meth labs or machine guns or …

The perps always say the same thing: “Uh, where’d that come from? That ain’t mine.”

But I want to believe Josh Heytvelt. I want to see him back flying around the basketball court, not bound by gravity and mushrooming legal problems.

Unfortunately, what’s done is done. The leaky justice system must run its course.

My mission is to help the next athlete caught cruising Cheney with hallucinogenic fungi.

So here are some alternative responses to tell the cops, such as:

•The back of my car is very dark and damp.

I can’t be responsible for what’s growing back there.

•Those mushrooms? They must’ve fallen out of my calzone.

•It was a one-armed man, officer. That’s right. A one-armed man.

•One word: al-Qaida.

•I have a license to carry a concealed fungus.

•The muffins are for my new stoner cooking show, “Dude, Where’s My Baking Powder?”

•The dog ate my homework. (Hey, it always worked for me in high school.)

•The Blue Devils made me do it.

•Just cramming for my mycology final, Officer.

•Hey, I know what this is. I’m on “Punk’d.” Let’s bring out Ashton Kutcher and end this thing.

•I was set up by the Pillsbury Dopeboy.

•How about I autograph a few jerseys for you, Officer, and then you let me truffle on back to Spokane?

•You say psychedelic. I say psychelicious!

•If I’ve told those freaky Keebler elves once, I’ve told them a thousand times: Stop storing your dope stash in my car!

•Just making a delivery for Ms. Spears.

•Some people call me the space cowboy.

Some call me the gangster of love.

•Oh, well, you know the old saying: Any portabella in a storm.

•At least nobody found the cherry crack cupcakes in the glove box.

•You don’t seriously expect anyone to visit Cheney without magic mushrooms, do you?

•For the love of God, you’ve gotta believe me.

It was a ONE-ARMED MAN!