Quote:
Originally Posted by The Batlord
God damn it I hate dealing with nickel and dime mother****ers. This **** was supposed to go down easy and quick, and this dude is taking forever and acting all paranoid, asking me over and over if I'm undercover. I'm like, "Why?", and he thinks I'm "acting weird". Like, mother****er, I'm a weird dude, so carry your ass with that ****.
I guess it's good that he's careful or whatever, but I have never in all my days been asked if I was a cop. What the ****? Don't you think that if I was a cop I'd have better things to do than get a job at some ****ty fast food place to arrest dudes who sell dimebags? If I knew anyone else to get **** from I would drop this ******* and go buy from someone who isn't a retard.
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Dumb, sketched out dealers are the worst. Mine visits my house, says high to my parents and grandma, and comes up to my room for a bit to have a beer while he weighs it out. Be jealous.
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