As soon as I started Schedule 1, the hypothing text that was shaking in front of me says that I am a small -time drug dealer from the south. I just know a way to make money, because of the text, and it’s time to work. Things that
The time has come to replace a new, cannabinoid -free leaf. I am going to start as a productive member of the society once again, live an honest life, cooperate fully with any respected law enforcement officers who decide to detain me during their duties. Possibly what could be wrong?
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I am awake in my RV from past life, and from a text of my imprisoned uncle. I springs from straight tents, out of the door and in a clean air, I’m breathing now. My uncle wants to talk on a pay phone, and I decide that I will add it only once. I think she’s a family.
Uncle’s straight business. He used to bargain here, so a supplier is ready to go there and some startup cache is hidden around the city. Before I say goodbye, the line becomes dead.
That’s how better. I go to a nearby gas station, buy bananas and ask the present if she knows where I can get the job – or I try. Somehow, I can just think of asking whether she would like a free sample. I think old habits die hard. I leave the store without saying anything, now $ 98 in my name and bananas in my pocket.
The streets are filled with a humorous amount of drugs. Occasionally, along with crack pipes, bongs and beer cans reduce the bottom of the toes. I picked it up, twist it in my hands when I weigh how easy it would be to set up a shop here. It is as if the whole universe is created for one thing. Except!
Cash in the trash, says the machine in front of me. $ 3 for a glass bottle, $ 2 for plastic, $ 2 for cans and $ 1 for anything. I press the start button and see the crack pipe changing the crack pipe in the first honest deer of my new life. In front of the machine, written with hope, “Keep Helland Point beautiful!” Reads I will cash in cash for the trash. I will
Soon, I have turned every syringe and cigarette stub to a cold $ 20 in the vicinity. I’m walking along the beach and then picking up my way on the streets, a landscape behind me. I start to pay the debris in the machines with a rapid distance in the machines, whenever I get the lucky shot. All the time and then I try to communicate with someone that I run in the past, but still, the only conversation I can come with is to offer free samples of grass to people. I don’t even have! Why am I?
I start to avoid passers -by with red eyesight when I turn their hometown into something worthy. Many of these people feel away from their faces that it is surprising that there is an infrastructure in the city, but the block at the hardware store seems to be quite appropriate. Even he asks me what I am doing, and I do something about agriculture. In addition to a close conversation, he sells more treasures: in a trash, only for Rs 25!
The afternoon had already made me a hundred dollars or more, but grabber change. It comes with a hand-holding bin that I can now fill in a time before collecting the garbage-oo meter instead of stopping at the leaf of a wasted marijuana. I happily work on the streets, and lose all the time of time. I think this life is not so bad. Then I realize that I am the past of the curfew.
I saw the signs, but focused them a little. Certainly the law won’t make a rigorous mistake of a road to me? They spit at the moment when they see me, however, they do not pay any attention to my complaints. Before I know him, I was arrested, fined $ 100, and marched on my… RV. They did not see the good job, but their injustice shakes my new comfort. And they think they are keeping the streets clean.
I can’t sleep with the plants, so I hide behind, now I am secretly slipping into the trash in the machines, keeping the officers’ watch. I have been stained, but this time I run away, eventually he was lost in a dumpter. Is that this? Am I in the garbage myself I dedicated to taking myself? They go, and I slipped on a motel that I ran away. I knock on the door of the manager’s office, but when she comes out … again. I can offer a free sample, but I can’t ask for a room.
I went back, to pick up, to chew the police. I am fortunate to have the least presence of police. Finally, I saw my phone stuck at 4 am for the past several hours. It’s more than my phone which is wrong, though, it’s the world. Again, the text appears in front of my eyes, this time reads “go to sleep tomorrow”. I curse, the curse of living in a world where I will never see sunrise. There is nothing for this. I crush my teeth and go back to the RV, when I hit myself on the bed, win the UV growing lights.
I get up at 7, and found that in three hours I have slept on the roads. This means money, but also frustration. Helland point will never be beautiful.
I drag myself back to pick myself, but in the morning’s trash, the maize has rubbed my face in the syphilis nature of the struggle. If I do this for a week, I will afford the room above the Chinese tech -out space I have seen the ad, but what? Does anyone care?
I realize that my dizziness has brought me to the door of a church, so I knock on the door for answers. The priest comes out, the patient and the expected, waiting for my life to be removed. I ask her whether she wants a free sample. He went back.
My brain turns to the dead drops, with hundreds of dollars sitting around the city. Why not, I think? The money has already been made. It is better that I take it more than lying there. I’m stealing from drug dealers, that’s it. Such as Robin Hood, or something else.
The town has a last legal way to make money. Between the dead drops and the cash of my trash, I got a thousand dollars, so I go to casino bases. I bet every last dollar on the Black Jack’s hand, hit my 17, and break.
Fuck. Then on the drug, then.
