The Dumpster

In the past, I have from time to time dabbled in the illicit movement and sale of plant matter, including the powder, to support my lifestyle. Let me say, the powder is the devil. Let me say that one more time…the powder is the devil. The Powder is some Bad Bad Juju.

But, I have moved some herb.

I was reading a post the other day about someone leaving something in a trash dumpster, by mistake.

Reminds me of the time my partner and I had some really good rope…we were heading to a meet to unload a kilo of some mombo zamdo, and we stopped behind a restaurant to clean out our ride. Cleaned it out we did.

Showed up at the deal, and we had no deal to close. What the fuck. Immediately, I realized what had happened. I threw the shit away by mistake…I cannot believe I did that, but I did. The fucking dumpster was behind a restaurant thirty miles away, so off we went. This was not a known friendly deal, so we were both wearing shoulder holsters, filled, and had to dance a little…if you know what I mean. The people with the cash said, “You’re fucking with usâ€?…I told ‘em the truth, and said we’d be back in a couple of hours. I even offered one of ‘em to ride with us. They declined.

We get back to the dumpster, and guess who had to climb in…you got it…me. Now I can tell you, there is a huge difference between a “cardboard boxâ€? dumpster and a “foodâ€? dumpster. This was some nasty shit I was crawling around in. Fucking nasty…but I found the brick, and in the end everything was cool. Big John and me laugh about this little mishap every time we are together.

Bottom line…that was the first and last time I ever wore a gun to a drug deal. These people didn’t think my story was funny. I do.

That was probably some Bad Bad Juju.