Fear Nothing & Love More
The weed dealer’s revenge.
warning: long story.
Back in high school I used to sell a bit of weed, you know, so I could smoke mine for free and have a little extra pocket change for gas and whatnot. To give you an idea, I’d dime and 8th out an ounce every week, 2 if there was a crazy party that weekend or whatever. I never sold more than a quarter and I didn’t even like selling that much because it would f*ck with my limited profit margin.Anyways, I had met this kid at a party, he went to a school in the city (I was in the burbs) and ended up becoming a fairly regular custy, driving up to grab an 8th once in a while as I had a line on some better than most type herb. One day I get a call from him asking if he can give this chick he knows my number, sure whatever, shit was a little slow and I wanted to re up soon. So I get a call from this chick and she immediately asks if I can get her a qp, “uhh no”, I hear some hushed conversation then it’s an ounce, still no, a half? no. More whispering and I hear someone getting frustrated in the background, she gets back on and asks what I can give her, I tell her a quarter at most. More whispering and she comes back with a quarter and an 8th, whatever I figure there’s more than one person wanting weed and like I said I wanted to re up so I agree, but I’m kind of stoned and it’s pouring outside so I tell her she’ll have to come to me.
(Source: redd.it, via makeuphall)
(via stuckinthewinterofmylife)
(Source: instagram.com, via ghettogotth)
