Drugs

Adventures on Central

Image courtesy of the US Drug Enforcement Administration
Image courtesy of the US Drug Enforcement Administration

While enjoying a Camel Wide in the shade at Fifth and Central, just a few minutes ago, I was joined by a tattooed young man with a cigarette of another kind.

"You wanna get fucked up?" he asked.

Surprised by the after school special moment I was having I responded, "um, no thanks."

"Why not man? It's so hot."

"Uh...I've got to go back to work in a minute," I told to my new "friend."

"Oh? Where you work?" he asked, oddly sheepish for someone trying to sell me weed on a busy street.

"At the newspaper right there," I said, hoping he'd split.

And he did. Woah. I didn't expect "newspaper" to cause so much fear in the heart of one pot dealer.

With barely a goodbye, my chances of afternoon typos and zone outs vanished down the street, looking for another mark.

At least I don't look like a narc. Must be the braids I'm sporting today.