This a tale from the time I was in rodeo school in CO. I posted it on reddit long ago and received great feedback. I figured it’s an amusing story with a real Colorado feel, long one but it’s worth it. This was formatted for reddit so any apologies if there’s difficulty reading it.
My friends consider this one of their favorite stories and considering the recentness I figured I'd tell it on here. The one name in this whole story has been changed for pure anonymity.
I woke up two saturday's ago at 3 a.m. in Alabama. Colorado was getting cold and my girlfriend had just moved to Alabama, I'm a student and for some reason I thought it would be a bright idea to go to southern Alabama for two weeks. I'd had a great time smoking blunts with alligators but alas, Saturday was my return. First came Mobile, then Houston, and then Denver.
So I land in Denver but I go to school two hours away in a bumfuck cattle town called Sterling. My license, well, it's pretty fucked and I don't exactly drive. No problem, because I bought a greyhound bus ticket in advance. Except the bus leaves at 7:20 p.m. and I'm here in at the bus station at 11 a.m.
Now for those of you who've been to Denver, not only do we have a pretty serious homeless issue but a lot of our homeless are unstable drug dependent or mentally ill transients. I'm pretty sure the Greyhound bus station is never locked and it makes for a pretty decent, warm, makeshift homeless shelter. Now I admire the homeless and their stories, but when I'm being offered shower heads and singular pringles packs for 25 and 10 dollars respectively I get a little annoyed.
So I get out and about, figuring I can kill 6/7 hours in downtown Denver pretty easy. Wrong. I went to a Chili's, a farmers market, and did a lap around Coors field. Yet, I find myself back at the bus station around 2. Well, fuck - I pull up /r/cfbstreams and watch the Hoosiers game to kill time.
This is when our titular character approaches me. Now I'm originally from Indiana - when a man with a cowboy hat and a proper buckle approaches you, it means he's good shit. It was a pleasant break from the schizophrenic heroin addict who kept trying to sell me random stolen Home Depot merchandise. He approaches me, we talk briefly about football then he peeps my red Sensi Seeds shirt and asks me if I'd like to dab........well I've been smoking swamp weed at this point for two weeks and I've gotta be here for 5 more hours - fuck yeah I want to get stoned, I probably would've said yes had I been in Colorado all week, I fucking love dabbing.
This is when I should've known he was a crackhead, we get to his car which is a complete volkswagen body and everything - out of nowhere he lifts his hood and goes off for 5/10 minutes about how he's got an Audi RS8 engine in his crumbling hooptie of a Volkswagen. The man put 12 super chips in his fucking wagon, his crackheadedness is influencing his automotive decisions (not gonna lie it was a sweet fucking motor, though I doubt it was an RS8).
We get in the car and I'm excited to rip a rig, or hit a nectar collector, or worst case scenario yaknow rip a vape pen. He pulls out a jar with probably a quarter of some of the finest sugar wax (dry ice dabs) I'd ever seen. Pure golden, no hint of butane or co2 or any of that shit. I'm telling you I was so fucking zipped up, having not dabbed in two weeks and meeting this awesome football watching dab taking dude to hang out with in the abyss that is a greyhound station. He whips out his tool, I'm supposing he has a pen somewhere I can't see - he dishes out probably a quarter gram, a hefty dosage for having not dabbed in a while, oh man I'm so excited. "That ones for you", well fuck yeah thanks man but should I click my heels and get high off of it? "Do you mind if I snag a cigarette?" I hand him a Marlboro blue out of my pack, which he takes and rubs it all around his wax jar - there's over a half of gram on this cigarette, a good 20$ worth at least. When in Rome do as the Romans do, right? Now I'm kicking myself because 1. This is NOT how I wanted to enjoy this glorious dry ice wax, 2. I've never been able to adequately get high when a cigarette filter and THC is involved.
I should mind you this guy is talking crazy shit this whole time. Maybe not crazy but not stuff you'd say over dinner, "baby food is the cleanest food in the world, if you work out you need it for your core buddy" or "George Bush was Reagan without balls". I play along because it beats the bus station and I like to see things through. We make decent conversation nonetheless between sports, social issues, and politics we kept busy. He taught me how to shake hands properly - shaking with your left means you don't trust him, shaking with your right means you're willing to give him a chance, and shaking with your right and grabbing at the wrist means full confidence in his character. I've never had a father so I'm a sucker for a positive male role model.
He asks me if I'd mind picking his wife up around the corner, I offered to stay back, let him do his thing but he insisted and it sure beats the station. He says his wife was getting off work. I figured we're in downtown Denver and this guys a little off his rocker - but who isn't? His wife is probably a secretary or maybe a middle school teacher, in my head surely she'd work at a McDonald's. "So what does your wife do?" I casually ask. "She sucks dick pretty good", he casually replies. I figure it's a shoddy joke, I force a fake laugh that's awkward for the both of us "hahaha, what does she really do?"...."She sucks dick buddy I told you, twelve to fifteen hundred a day". Oh, well, shit you couldn't fool me but I'm sure there's a handful of people in this world that would compromise their integrity and morals for $12-1500 a night and besides who am I to judge? This is Denver, folks ain't exactly as rigid as they are back home. I've lived in Gary, Indiana before too, and hanging out with a prostitute is a pretty good upgrade to some other situations.
We pull up on this short as shit, Central American woman maybe between 30 and 55 (crack makes you crack). I thought she was homeless and he was gonna throw her a bone. Naw, this was my new buddy's wife. Idk how I'd describe this woman's mouth to you? It's like it had been punched in and concaved for maximum penile effect. What I'm trying to say is this bitch had only like 3 straggly ass teeth positioned in a way to literally suck dick for a profession. She looked like the thing that lived under harry potters staircase, if that thing sucked dick for crack. She's got either a Cajun or Spanish accent, or no accent at all and I'm just illiterate in no-teeth-glish. She seems sweet. The man told me later he'd been married 9 times and he'd left them all except this one because "she was the only one to pull over and bring me a flower from the side of the road", and it was the sweetest most poetic thing the way he worded it.
I get a little buzzed from the dab cigarette but I figure fuck it, I just came back after smoking swamp weed for so long - I should treat myself today. I give my new buddy my last $20 to pick me up some top shelf at a dispensary (I'm only 20). He says he can get me weed but he'll go through his friend George because it's homegrown so the quality and quantity are yada yada yada whatever, I didn't care, we were in the cannabis capital of America - what's the worst that could happen? He drops off my 20$ at his friends house, without my consent, and he says "he's scaling it up, he said to come back in 18 minutes." In my head I'm like, "what the fuck? 18 minutes? Why so specific? It's a dub sack just eyeball it", I'm convinced I'm getting jipped and this is the part they kill me and hide my body behind the Pepsi Center. I figure I won't throw a fit until I see this through, best case scenario I get my shit and go home tonight, worst case scenario - well it doesn't get worse than the greyhound bus station.
We cruise around to kill time, he keeps spewing all kinds of shit from his mouth. For example he told me he was 3rd in line as heir to Exxon Mobile at one point but joined the military and when he was smoking weed upon his return, the board of directors which included his father revoked his position. He told me at Exxon he was an account manager and made $8.8 million a year, upon being insulted by his father he'd moved to Craig, Colorado to work on oil pipelines. He always told me his great feats but nothing about how he ended up in this position. Granted I doubt any of this shit is true, I've found that people on stimulants daydream out loud, he still had a fascinating, well corroborating story. He told me in Texas, where he grew up, at the age of 10 as a rite of passage, his father made him take a jar of fire ants to his penis. Everytime he'd try and ask me a question he'd put me in rodeo time, which I've found myself starting to do. We had some pretty fascinating conversations. This dude was in his early 60's and as fucked as I'd come to find his life may be, I always admire, appreciate any wisdom and advice on this life shit - yeah he was a crackhead, but he was also a veteran, he was a glowing enigma of life experience, he stood tall as a man despite all his current hardships and shortcomings and I admired that - to never compromise the integrity of your character despite where life takes you. By no means is he a role model for success but I feel like I learned a thing or two from him.
You know when I said I've lived in Gary? There's a term for all this, it's called buttering. He takes my money, tells me he'll handle it, distracts me and "butters" me up that way I'm not half as pissed when we magically never see each other again. See I like to listen to my buddy and hear him out, but I still have 0 faith in a man who tells me to wait 18 minutes for two grams to get scaled.
Some more time passes by and I miss out on my first crack deal. We pull up to this black guy on a bike, riding in a circle the size of a hula hoop for the whole time I seen him. At this point I still have 0 idea my buddy and his wife are crackheads, well I'm pretty sure the wife is on some shit but I didn't pinpoint it to crack. They were scavenging change for a minute or two in the car and I figured, oh, their probably gonna get some brisk sweet teas, order off the value menu, shit, anything but this shit. He rolls his window down and says "what's up darkie?", and immediately in my head I'm thinking what the fuck, can you just pull up on strangers and call them darkies? That's some Jim Crow shit. The black guy is pissed, "what the fuck did you call me?", "Relax negro, you can call me whitey I'm not sensitive," replies the Texan. I'm convinced he's not a racist, just an asshole who likes to push his limits. The black guy proceeds to ride circularly completely ignoring the Texan. "I got 3.85" yells the Texan finally and the black guys head flips up - "385$ or 3.85$?" he asks. "3.85$"'confirms the Texan. The crack dealer laughs in his face and the Texan gets irate, "I'm coming back here tonight with more money and you better show some respect or I'll fight it out of you" he says.
Oh I should mention the Texan kept a bullwhip on his dash and a .44 SW revolver under the seat. He spent the last two hours preaching to me about karma, about not being violent, and he was ready for the funk this whole time! All that anti-violence shit goes out the window later though. He says we're going to his apartment to hang out, and George lives around the corner so he can drop me off at the greyhound when we're all set. At this point I don't give a fuck what happens, I'd been up since 3, it's cold and windy, I just want to smoke a joint in a parking garage and die for the day somehow or another. We get to his apartment which is bewilderingly nice for what I'd expected. Gary crackheads could learn a lesson or three, these fuckers had a mattress and cups and a table, pretty impressive stuff considering every other crackhead I'd ever come to know lived out of a shopping cart. I'm sitting at their dining table, chain smoking Marlboro blues, and the Texan slabs some dab in a pipe for me to hit! I know I know, it's just a pipe and I don't exactly have a torch. I think due to the lack of solvents, sugar wax is smokeable in the same way a really good bubble hash would be, maybe my tolerance was just asleep but I'd gotten high as fuck off of that. I'd pass it around and they'd say it was too strong for them, they had to do it off the cigarette. Whatever - more for me. This is when they start chopping up their rocks and loading their pipes. I'd been around crack before in Gary, but on the flip side. I'd been around crack the commodity, crack that you'd just watch get cooked, cut and viled up, crack that left white and came back green, you dig me? Now I was here around the real deal, the final result, the yield of ghetto capitalism. Didn't bother me too much, I stick to pot and lucy but I've lived all over the world and I've come to accept that people like what they like. It reminded me of meth, the smell of it all. The one time I did meth was a disaster so I didn't envy their highs nor lungs. It was peaceful though, we all had our pipe with our drug of choice, crackhead pandora in the background, in the middle of gorgeous downtown Denver. 3 strangers, none of us know each other's names, just brought together by the pursuit of getting high.
We hang out, shoot shit, he goes off on a 10 minute vent about how bad ass Elon Musk is, we talk about cattle and rodeo, his wife says some stuff I don't catch here and there but it was an easy going 2 hours. Well the Texan gets up and says he's walking to George's to get my stuff, I've got an hour til my bus boards so the timing is great. I hang out with his wife not saying shit for a solid 10 minutes. "He wasn't there man, there are cops down the road and he lives in a school zone I think he ran out"..... talk about a hell of a buttering job!! I say, well, okay, let's get in the car head towards the station and we can figure out some relative compensation. At this point he's probably slabbed me off at least 60$ worth of dabs, but seeing things through, remember? We get in the car and we're on our way until he viciously cuts into a Burger King parking lot. He parks on the very edge of the lot next to a house, "that's George's house, his car is back, I think he saw me and ran.", yeah well maybe. He spends the next 5 minutes pep talking himself into this vicious rage. "Nobody fucks with my business! Nobody plays with my shit!" yaknow shit like that over and over again. He goes to the trunk, puts on a bad ass trench coat, comes back to the driver seat, grabs his pistol and his bullwhip, tilts his cowboy hat, and tells his wife "watch the kid". Now my windows are down and we're parked next to this house so I can hear a good portion. I hear kicks and slams, not even a knock, the loud bangs stop and now there's a woman screaming. I'm pretty convinced loitering at the Burger King was going to turn into a homicider for all three of us. Woman stops screaming. I don't hear a peep for 5 minutes, woman screams again briefly and our hero character comes back to the car "sorry for the noise, the kids were at home, here's 7 grams", I clarify that I paid 20$ for this to which he replies "when people try to fuck me, I get the last laugh" in a very stern, serious voice. Turns out he broke the door down, George's wife freaks out, he tells George to weigh it and halfway thru the Texan gets pissed, whips George out his chair from the scale, the Texan grabs a handful puts it in the bag my dub was supposed to be in and walks out. The second scream being George getting bull whipped and his wife being horrified. I can't imagine how the kids felt, gaddamn.
I toss them 2gs for their troubles and we make it back to the greyhound with 10 minutes to spare. I give him a firm right hand wrist hand shake and we say our goodbyes, all agreeing it's best I don't know their names and they don't know mine. I get out and wrap up my dabbed up Marlboro while I watch this crackhead cowboy drive off into the sun with his chipped up Volkswagen RS8. Between Alabama, school, greyhound bus stations, cowboy crackheads - I don't regret a thing about this chapter in my life. Take chances they might surprise you.
Tldr; dude bullwhipped me 7 grams of chronic
My friends consider this one of their favorite stories and considering the recentness I figured I'd tell it on here. The one name in this whole story has been changed for pure anonymity.
I woke up two saturday's ago at 3 a.m. in Alabama. Colorado was getting cold and my girlfriend had just moved to Alabama, I'm a student and for some reason I thought it would be a bright idea to go to southern Alabama for two weeks. I'd had a great time smoking blunts with alligators but alas, Saturday was my return. First came Mobile, then Houston, and then Denver.
So I land in Denver but I go to school two hours away in a bumfuck cattle town called Sterling. My license, well, it's pretty fucked and I don't exactly drive. No problem, because I bought a greyhound bus ticket in advance. Except the bus leaves at 7:20 p.m. and I'm here in at the bus station at 11 a.m.
Now for those of you who've been to Denver, not only do we have a pretty serious homeless issue but a lot of our homeless are unstable drug dependent or mentally ill transients. I'm pretty sure the Greyhound bus station is never locked and it makes for a pretty decent, warm, makeshift homeless shelter. Now I admire the homeless and their stories, but when I'm being offered shower heads and singular pringles packs for 25 and 10 dollars respectively I get a little annoyed.
So I get out and about, figuring I can kill 6/7 hours in downtown Denver pretty easy. Wrong. I went to a Chili's, a farmers market, and did a lap around Coors field. Yet, I find myself back at the bus station around 2. Well, fuck - I pull up /r/cfbstreams and watch the Hoosiers game to kill time.
This is when our titular character approaches me. Now I'm originally from Indiana - when a man with a cowboy hat and a proper buckle approaches you, it means he's good shit. It was a pleasant break from the schizophrenic heroin addict who kept trying to sell me random stolen Home Depot merchandise. He approaches me, we talk briefly about football then he peeps my red Sensi Seeds shirt and asks me if I'd like to dab........well I've been smoking swamp weed at this point for two weeks and I've gotta be here for 5 more hours - fuck yeah I want to get stoned, I probably would've said yes had I been in Colorado all week, I fucking love dabbing.
This is when I should've known he was a crackhead, we get to his car which is a complete volkswagen body and everything - out of nowhere he lifts his hood and goes off for 5/10 minutes about how he's got an Audi RS8 engine in his crumbling hooptie of a Volkswagen. The man put 12 super chips in his fucking wagon, his crackheadedness is influencing his automotive decisions (not gonna lie it was a sweet fucking motor, though I doubt it was an RS8).
We get in the car and I'm excited to rip a rig, or hit a nectar collector, or worst case scenario yaknow rip a vape pen. He pulls out a jar with probably a quarter of some of the finest sugar wax (dry ice dabs) I'd ever seen. Pure golden, no hint of butane or co2 or any of that shit. I'm telling you I was so fucking zipped up, having not dabbed in two weeks and meeting this awesome football watching dab taking dude to hang out with in the abyss that is a greyhound station. He whips out his tool, I'm supposing he has a pen somewhere I can't see - he dishes out probably a quarter gram, a hefty dosage for having not dabbed in a while, oh man I'm so excited. "That ones for you", well fuck yeah thanks man but should I click my heels and get high off of it? "Do you mind if I snag a cigarette?" I hand him a Marlboro blue out of my pack, which he takes and rubs it all around his wax jar - there's over a half of gram on this cigarette, a good 20$ worth at least. When in Rome do as the Romans do, right? Now I'm kicking myself because 1. This is NOT how I wanted to enjoy this glorious dry ice wax, 2. I've never been able to adequately get high when a cigarette filter and THC is involved.
I should mind you this guy is talking crazy shit this whole time. Maybe not crazy but not stuff you'd say over dinner, "baby food is the cleanest food in the world, if you work out you need it for your core buddy" or "George Bush was Reagan without balls". I play along because it beats the bus station and I like to see things through. We make decent conversation nonetheless between sports, social issues, and politics we kept busy. He taught me how to shake hands properly - shaking with your left means you don't trust him, shaking with your right means you're willing to give him a chance, and shaking with your right and grabbing at the wrist means full confidence in his character. I've never had a father so I'm a sucker for a positive male role model.
He asks me if I'd mind picking his wife up around the corner, I offered to stay back, let him do his thing but he insisted and it sure beats the station. He says his wife was getting off work. I figured we're in downtown Denver and this guys a little off his rocker - but who isn't? His wife is probably a secretary or maybe a middle school teacher, in my head surely she'd work at a McDonald's. "So what does your wife do?" I casually ask. "She sucks dick pretty good", he casually replies. I figure it's a shoddy joke, I force a fake laugh that's awkward for the both of us "hahaha, what does she really do?"...."She sucks dick buddy I told you, twelve to fifteen hundred a day". Oh, well, shit you couldn't fool me but I'm sure there's a handful of people in this world that would compromise their integrity and morals for $12-1500 a night and besides who am I to judge? This is Denver, folks ain't exactly as rigid as they are back home. I've lived in Gary, Indiana before too, and hanging out with a prostitute is a pretty good upgrade to some other situations.
We pull up on this short as shit, Central American woman maybe between 30 and 55 (crack makes you crack). I thought she was homeless and he was gonna throw her a bone. Naw, this was my new buddy's wife. Idk how I'd describe this woman's mouth to you? It's like it had been punched in and concaved for maximum penile effect. What I'm trying to say is this bitch had only like 3 straggly ass teeth positioned in a way to literally suck dick for a profession. She looked like the thing that lived under harry potters staircase, if that thing sucked dick for crack. She's got either a Cajun or Spanish accent, or no accent at all and I'm just illiterate in no-teeth-glish. She seems sweet. The man told me later he'd been married 9 times and he'd left them all except this one because "she was the only one to pull over and bring me a flower from the side of the road", and it was the sweetest most poetic thing the way he worded it.
I get a little buzzed from the dab cigarette but I figure fuck it, I just came back after smoking swamp weed for so long - I should treat myself today. I give my new buddy my last $20 to pick me up some top shelf at a dispensary (I'm only 20). He says he can get me weed but he'll go through his friend George because it's homegrown so the quality and quantity are yada yada yada whatever, I didn't care, we were in the cannabis capital of America - what's the worst that could happen? He drops off my 20$ at his friends house, without my consent, and he says "he's scaling it up, he said to come back in 18 minutes." In my head I'm like, "what the fuck? 18 minutes? Why so specific? It's a dub sack just eyeball it", I'm convinced I'm getting jipped and this is the part they kill me and hide my body behind the Pepsi Center. I figure I won't throw a fit until I see this through, best case scenario I get my shit and go home tonight, worst case scenario - well it doesn't get worse than the greyhound bus station.
We cruise around to kill time, he keeps spewing all kinds of shit from his mouth. For example he told me he was 3rd in line as heir to Exxon Mobile at one point but joined the military and when he was smoking weed upon his return, the board of directors which included his father revoked his position. He told me at Exxon he was an account manager and made $8.8 million a year, upon being insulted by his father he'd moved to Craig, Colorado to work on oil pipelines. He always told me his great feats but nothing about how he ended up in this position. Granted I doubt any of this shit is true, I've found that people on stimulants daydream out loud, he still had a fascinating, well corroborating story. He told me in Texas, where he grew up, at the age of 10 as a rite of passage, his father made him take a jar of fire ants to his penis. Everytime he'd try and ask me a question he'd put me in rodeo time, which I've found myself starting to do. We had some pretty fascinating conversations. This dude was in his early 60's and as fucked as I'd come to find his life may be, I always admire, appreciate any wisdom and advice on this life shit - yeah he was a crackhead, but he was also a veteran, he was a glowing enigma of life experience, he stood tall as a man despite all his current hardships and shortcomings and I admired that - to never compromise the integrity of your character despite where life takes you. By no means is he a role model for success but I feel like I learned a thing or two from him.
You know when I said I've lived in Gary? There's a term for all this, it's called buttering. He takes my money, tells me he'll handle it, distracts me and "butters" me up that way I'm not half as pissed when we magically never see each other again. See I like to listen to my buddy and hear him out, but I still have 0 faith in a man who tells me to wait 18 minutes for two grams to get scaled.
Some more time passes by and I miss out on my first crack deal. We pull up to this black guy on a bike, riding in a circle the size of a hula hoop for the whole time I seen him. At this point I still have 0 idea my buddy and his wife are crackheads, well I'm pretty sure the wife is on some shit but I didn't pinpoint it to crack. They were scavenging change for a minute or two in the car and I figured, oh, their probably gonna get some brisk sweet teas, order off the value menu, shit, anything but this shit. He rolls his window down and says "what's up darkie?", and immediately in my head I'm thinking what the fuck, can you just pull up on strangers and call them darkies? That's some Jim Crow shit. The black guy is pissed, "what the fuck did you call me?", "Relax negro, you can call me whitey I'm not sensitive," replies the Texan. I'm convinced he's not a racist, just an asshole who likes to push his limits. The black guy proceeds to ride circularly completely ignoring the Texan. "I got 3.85" yells the Texan finally and the black guys head flips up - "385$ or 3.85$?" he asks. "3.85$"'confirms the Texan. The crack dealer laughs in his face and the Texan gets irate, "I'm coming back here tonight with more money and you better show some respect or I'll fight it out of you" he says.
Oh I should mention the Texan kept a bullwhip on his dash and a .44 SW revolver under the seat. He spent the last two hours preaching to me about karma, about not being violent, and he was ready for the funk this whole time! All that anti-violence shit goes out the window later though. He says we're going to his apartment to hang out, and George lives around the corner so he can drop me off at the greyhound when we're all set. At this point I don't give a fuck what happens, I'd been up since 3, it's cold and windy, I just want to smoke a joint in a parking garage and die for the day somehow or another. We get to his apartment which is bewilderingly nice for what I'd expected. Gary crackheads could learn a lesson or three, these fuckers had a mattress and cups and a table, pretty impressive stuff considering every other crackhead I'd ever come to know lived out of a shopping cart. I'm sitting at their dining table, chain smoking Marlboro blues, and the Texan slabs some dab in a pipe for me to hit! I know I know, it's just a pipe and I don't exactly have a torch. I think due to the lack of solvents, sugar wax is smokeable in the same way a really good bubble hash would be, maybe my tolerance was just asleep but I'd gotten high as fuck off of that. I'd pass it around and they'd say it was too strong for them, they had to do it off the cigarette. Whatever - more for me. This is when they start chopping up their rocks and loading their pipes. I'd been around crack before in Gary, but on the flip side. I'd been around crack the commodity, crack that you'd just watch get cooked, cut and viled up, crack that left white and came back green, you dig me? Now I was here around the real deal, the final result, the yield of ghetto capitalism. Didn't bother me too much, I stick to pot and lucy but I've lived all over the world and I've come to accept that people like what they like. It reminded me of meth, the smell of it all. The one time I did meth was a disaster so I didn't envy their highs nor lungs. It was peaceful though, we all had our pipe with our drug of choice, crackhead pandora in the background, in the middle of gorgeous downtown Denver. 3 strangers, none of us know each other's names, just brought together by the pursuit of getting high.
We hang out, shoot shit, he goes off on a 10 minute vent about how bad ass Elon Musk is, we talk about cattle and rodeo, his wife says some stuff I don't catch here and there but it was an easy going 2 hours. Well the Texan gets up and says he's walking to George's to get my stuff, I've got an hour til my bus boards so the timing is great. I hang out with his wife not saying shit for a solid 10 minutes. "He wasn't there man, there are cops down the road and he lives in a school zone I think he ran out"..... talk about a hell of a buttering job!! I say, well, okay, let's get in the car head towards the station and we can figure out some relative compensation. At this point he's probably slabbed me off at least 60$ worth of dabs, but seeing things through, remember? We get in the car and we're on our way until he viciously cuts into a Burger King parking lot. He parks on the very edge of the lot next to a house, "that's George's house, his car is back, I think he saw me and ran.", yeah well maybe. He spends the next 5 minutes pep talking himself into this vicious rage. "Nobody fucks with my business! Nobody plays with my shit!" yaknow shit like that over and over again. He goes to the trunk, puts on a bad ass trench coat, comes back to the driver seat, grabs his pistol and his bullwhip, tilts his cowboy hat, and tells his wife "watch the kid". Now my windows are down and we're parked next to this house so I can hear a good portion. I hear kicks and slams, not even a knock, the loud bangs stop and now there's a woman screaming. I'm pretty convinced loitering at the Burger King was going to turn into a homicider for all three of us. Woman stops screaming. I don't hear a peep for 5 minutes, woman screams again briefly and our hero character comes back to the car "sorry for the noise, the kids were at home, here's 7 grams", I clarify that I paid 20$ for this to which he replies "when people try to fuck me, I get the last laugh" in a very stern, serious voice. Turns out he broke the door down, George's wife freaks out, he tells George to weigh it and halfway thru the Texan gets pissed, whips George out his chair from the scale, the Texan grabs a handful puts it in the bag my dub was supposed to be in and walks out. The second scream being George getting bull whipped and his wife being horrified. I can't imagine how the kids felt, gaddamn.
I toss them 2gs for their troubles and we make it back to the greyhound with 10 minutes to spare. I give him a firm right hand wrist hand shake and we say our goodbyes, all agreeing it's best I don't know their names and they don't know mine. I get out and wrap up my dabbed up Marlboro while I watch this crackhead cowboy drive off into the sun with his chipped up Volkswagen RS8. Between Alabama, school, greyhound bus stations, cowboy crackheads - I don't regret a thing about this chapter in my life. Take chances they might surprise you.
Tldr; dude bullwhipped me 7 grams of chronic
hah crazy story, im picturing him in my head like Mathew McConaughey in dallas buyers club
