Saturday, September 18, 2010

A short older guy who i've seen around town but never taken seriously shows up at my house unexpectedly with a retinue of grinning gangsters. They tell me they heard i move midlevel weight and they want to help me get into highlevel dealing. Its obviously a weird intimidation/extortion thing, but i don't tell them im not a dealer and i kinda play along with them when they talk about me paying them $800 for my first shipment. The short guy doesn't really address me, and a japanese guy with long curly hair enthusiastically does most of the talking. At one point he pulls out a little derringer, and when i glance at it he points it right at me. I flinch. He laughs and points it at my bed and pulls the trigger, and a tiny blast of white powder covers my green sheets. He explains its a military-made substance that will kill anybody who inhales it and that i ought to mop my bed thoroughly then put the sheets in the washer. I do my best to pretend like i believe him, wondering if its flour or clorox or what. One of the gangsters leaves the house and reappears at the second story window in my bedroom, leaving a note on the sill, then climbing a sketchy tree branch back down. They all leave and i get the note then lock the window. The note is written in awful handwriting.

I drive a car through crowded city streets. Its raining. My windows are up. At every stop light, some dismal looking person tries to get me to roll down the window and they all derisively call me " tough guy" when i don't.