Funderbizzle Farms LLC v. Sap Resources LLC d/b/a Stability Cannabis

Let’s get one thing straight: in the wild, wild West of post-legalization Oklahoma, a farm is suing a marijuana dispensary. Not for drugs, not for trespassing, not even for stealing seeds or trimming trimmings — but for something far more mysterious, something that only a spreadsheet-wielding farmer and a cannabis entrepreneur could possibly turn into a courtroom showdown. What exactly went down? The filing doesn’t say. The demands? Crickets. The allegations? Nowhere to be found. But what we do know is wild enough: Funderbizzle Farms LLC — yes, Funderbizzle — has dragged Sap Resources LLC, the operator of “Stability Cannabis,” into Oklahoma County District Court, and we’re here for the drama, the absurdity, and the inevitable awkwardness of two businesses realizing they can’t just vibe their way out of a legal dispute.

So who are these people? Or, more accurately, who are these entities? On one side, we’ve got Funderbizzle Farms LLC — a name that sounds less like an agricultural operation and more like a startup founded by a guy who got too many kombuchas at a wellness retreat. Are they growing hemp? Raising goats? Selling artisanal dirt? The filing doesn’t say. But the name alone suggests a certain branding ambition — maybe they’re into regenerative farming, maybe they sell CBD-infused kale, or maybe they just really like the word “funder.” What we do know is they’re serious enough to hire a lawyer: James Thiessen of Combs Thiessen PLLC, a firm with an office in Leadership Square, which sounds like a place where decisions are made, PowerPoint presentations are weaponized, and people wear blazers unironically.

On the other side? Sap Resources LLC, doing business as Stability Cannabis — a name that feels like a promise in a state where the medical marijuana industry exploded faster than a dab pen left in a hot car. Oklahoma, for those not in the know, didn’t fully legalize recreational weed, but it came real close with its medical program. So close, in fact, that by 2023, the state had more pot dispensaries than McDonald’s and 7-Elevens combined. That’s not a joke. That’s a public health crisis disguised as a free market experiment. And in the middle of it all is Stability Cannabis — presumably trying to bring some calm to the chaos, one gummy at a time.

Now, how do these two end up in court? One’s a farm. One’s a dispensary. At first glance, you’d think they’d be allies. Maybe Funderbizzle grows hemp and sells it to Stability. Maybe they partnered up, shook hands, said “namaste,” and then things went south. Or maybe Sap Resources promised to buy 500 pounds of organic, sun-grown bud and then ghosted like a Tinder date who realized you were serious about astrology. But here’s the thing: the filing we have is just an Entry of Appearance — meaning, all it says is that Funderbizzle’s lawyer is officially on the case. No petition. No facts. No smoking gun (pun intended). It’s like showing up to a movie five minutes after it started and being asked to explain the plot.

So we’re left to speculate. And oh, do we have theories.

Theory One: This is a supply chain dispute. Funderbizzle grew the goods. Stability promised to pay. The check never came. Now, someone’s getting lawyered up and reciting the Uniform Commercial Code like it’s scripture.

Theory Two: This is a branding beef. Did Stability Cannabis use an image, a logo, or a slogan that Funderbizzle claims as their own? Is “Stability” too close to “Funderbizzle” in the grand spectrum of wellness-related nonsense? Are we about to find out that both companies sell $28 “mindful mushroom tinctures” and now it’s war?

Theory Three: This is a real estate spat. Maybe Funderbizzle owns the land. Maybe Sap Resources was leasing it to grow cannabis. Maybe the lease expired. Maybe the plants didn’t. Maybe someone refused to move out, and now we’ve got a weed squat situation — Oklahoma’s answer to an eviction drama on 90 Day Fiancé.

Or — and hear me out — what if this is about water? This is a farm, after all. Oklahoma has droughts. Water rights are serious business. Did Stability Cannabis install a massive irrigation system to feed their indoor grow operation and drain Funderbizzle’s aquifer? Are we looking at Chinatown but with more vape pens and fewer fedoras?

Whatever the reason, the legal claims haven’t been disclosed yet. No breach of contract. No fraud. No unjust enrichment. Nothing. Just a lawyer saying, “Hey, I’m here. Let the games begin.” And that’s the most Oklahoma thing about this entire case: you can’t even get a full explanation without wading through layers of legal fog, agricultural jargon, and the lingering scent of sour diesel.

Now, what does Funderbizzle want? The filing doesn’t say. No dollar amount. No demand for an injunction. No request to dissolve the company or ban the CEO from ever selling another gummy again. But let’s talk about money, because that’s usually what this is about. If they’re asking for $50,000, that’s not chump change — that’s a new greenhouse, a fleet of delivery vans, or a really good lawyer (looking at you, James Thiessen). But in the world of cannabis, where licenses can sell for six figures and dispensary rents are sky-high, $50K might just be a bad quarter. If this is about a broken contract for 1,000 pounds of flower, we’re talking real money. If it’s about someone stealing a wheelbarrow and a bag of potting soil? Not so much.

And yet — here we are. Two businesses, one court, and a name — Funderbizzle — that sounds like it belongs in a Silicon Valley parody. This case might end in a settlement. It might vanish into the ether. Or it might blow up into a full-blown exposé on how Oklahoma’s wild, wild cannabis market is turning farmers and entrepreneurs into bitter enemies over clauses in contracts no one read.

Our take? The most absurd part isn’t that a farm is suing a dispensary. It’s that in 2024, in the United States of America, we have a legal system robust enough to handle a dispute between a company called Funderbizzle Farms and a brand named Stability Cannabis, and nobody bats an eye. This is the world we’ve built: one where you can legally grow weed in your backyard, sell it in a store with a medical card, and then get sued by a farm with a name that sounds like a crypto scam.

We’re not rooting for either side. We’re rooting for clarity. We want details. We want drama. We want to know if someone got stiffed on a bulk order of Blue Dream. We want to know if this is about water, money, or ego. And most of all, we want to know: when did Oklahoma become the capital of weed-based civil war?

Until then, we’ll be here — watching the docket, waiting for the next filing, and hoping that one day, someone drops the words “breach of contract” and “edible liability” in the same sentence. Because in the courtroom of petty disputes, this one’s already a high-stakes game.