Sunday, October 7, 2012

I Hate When That Happens!!!

When I was a kid I had a homie named C who was a bit on the crazy side. Actually he was a lot on the crazy side, but he was just the kind of pyromaniac friend I needed to get me out of my shell. I was a good boy most the time, until he and I would meet up.

We once stole a golf cart, always lit a bunch of stuff on fire, shot out windows with my homemade slingshot, and used to walk in the sewers with home made torches. He was the Kenan to my Kel. If you don't know who that is you either didn't have a childhood or you're really old.

          Who loves fading into oblivion? I do, I do, I doo-oohhh!
Kel (sans Keenan) by BobbyProm, on Flickr
Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic License  by  BobbyProm 



As the years rolled by we remained friends, even once he moved out to Philly and I remained in Cali. Whenever we got the chance we flew out to visit each other and indulge in some old time craziness. By that time, C got pretty into party drugs. Sure I toked socially and have done bumps every now and then, but that wasn't enough for C. Kids grow up so fast, don't they?

One summer when he told me he was coming to L.A. for a few weeks, he also gave me a "wish list" i.e. a list of all the drugs he needed for are fun filled vacation. So I called up my connect.


BRICK
Yo Mike.

BIG MIKE
S'up fool.

BRICK
Ay, I'm gonna need some goodies.

BM
OK

BRICK
I need an eighth of weed...

BM
Uh huh.

BRICK
A 200 sack of coke...

BM
OK.

BRICK
A couple of E bombs.

BM
Uh huh.

BRICK
A couple of hits of acid..

BM
Right.

BRICK
And finally some shrooms.

BM
Alright, I deal none of those except weed and blow. By the way, what the fuck are you up to??

BRICK
Haha relax, it's not for me; it's for a friend. And he's a pro so get us some good weed; the one hit quit stuff. And pure cut blow.

BM
OK, I can get you some blueberry stuff, you're gonna have to wait a few weeks on the blow, it's dry right now.

BRICK
A few weeks!? That's no good he'll be here by then, and we're going to be bouncing around between San Diego, Mexico, and Vegas!


I didn't know what to do. Big Mike was the only guy I bought from and I was and was a very paranoid individual. But I had no choice; I had to branch out. So I reluctantly hit up Tony at work. I was employeed at a mortgage company where I didn't hang out with my coworkers much. But from what I heard Tony was pretty connected in that field. I just hoped he wouldn't say nothing to the boss.


BRICK
Hey Tony, I heard you can get some product.

TONY
Maybe. What do you need?

BRICK
Coke, shrooms, acid, and X.

*He looked at me with a look of disbelief*

TONY
Fucking A, you don't play around do you?

BRICK
It's not for me. Can you get it? I need it quick.

TONY
I'll see what I can do.


A few weeks later C was flying into LAX, and I met up with Big Mike at his house before going to pick up C. He got me the weed as promised. Big Mike was the best dealer ever. He hooked it up with a very generous eighth for $50, and it was the one hit quit shit just as I had asked for. As always, he sampled the product with me in a show of good faith. So we sat around his pad blazing up with  a couple of his cousins as he showed us different guns he owned.

Just like in the anti-weed commercials.
the dangers of playing with guns by hummanna, on Flickr
Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic License  by  hummanna 


After getting high as fuck on his very potent herb, I looked at the time and said, "Oh shit! I gotta get out of here! I gotta pick up C." So my extremely dumbself, threw the baggie in crumpled up Burger King wrapper on the floor of my Civic and hauled ass down the roads of La Puente to get to the freeway. Sure enough a cop had set up a speed trap, and popped me as I was going 60 miles per hour in a 40 mile per hour zone.

"Great! I'm gonna get arrested when I'm supposed to be picking up C at the airport! He'll be wondering where the heck I am. Fuck and now I'm gonna have a DUI and possible drug charges. There's no way this pig isn't going to smell the weed on me," I thought to myself.

The cop got out of his cruiser and to my surprise, he walked towards the passenger side of my car. He asked for my license and registration, and went back to his cruiser for what seemed like an eternity. He came back and said, "You were going 60 miles per hour, but I put you down for 51 so you don't get 'reckless driving.' Slow down." He handed me the speeding ticket.

I couldn't believe my luck. In all the many times I've been pulled over, I never had the cop come up on the passenger side. Either he didn't smell or just chose to ignore the weed on my breath. I ended up getting to the airport on time and greeted C as he walked out into the arrival section.


BRICK
Dude, I got pulled over on the way here, and I had weed in the car. No DUI though just a speeding ticket. And sorry bro wasn't able to get the other drugs. I did my best, I even hit up a coworker, and you know how I don't like to get involved with coworkers. But Mike should have some blow for us in a bit.

C
Bro, don't even trip. I smuggled some coke and E on the plane.

BRICK
What the fuck are you serious?? In your luggage??

C
Naw man, I'm not stupid. It's on me right now. I taped it to my leg with a shit load of clear packing tape so the dogs wouldn't be able to smell it. There was a Shepard too at my lay over. He was just chillin; didn't pick up the scent at all.

BRICK
Why did you do that!? We could have found the drugs out here!

C
I know. I just did it cause I want to be able to say I smuggled drugs on a plane once.


Oh C, you so crazy whiteboy.  I think there ought to be some sort of protocol when smuggling drugs. You should let your friend know so that he doesn't take unnecessary risks nor overbuys.  I don't know just seems to me we ought to have a drug etiquette to help us maintain our polite society o.0


Crazy C. He didn't ask me to blur out his face & tats, just figured it'd be best...




*Don't forget to check out my book! http://mobybrickbook.com

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