Verse/Luka/Go stock up on weed
From Create Your Own Story
(Created page with 'Despite your pain, you think you can make it to your supplier's place. It isn't far from your own, only a small detour from your usually home-school path. Besides, you argue, it …')
Current revision as of 19:08, 23 June 2012
Despite your pain, you think you can make it to your supplier's place. It isn't far from your own, only a small detour from your usually home-school path. Besides, you argue, it would make you feel better, the pain more sustainable.
Or so you convince yourself and, when you reach the right street, you walk off towards your "friend's" house. Really, you barely know the guy--but he gives you want, relatively cheaply too, so all is good.
You arrive there, having managed to reel your body in somewhat--enough to at least look right. You don't your friend would really care, though.
The house you stop at is out of place in the neighborhood. While it is a less-off area, the other houses at least tried to keep their front yards presentable. This house's was a barren yellow, and was absent of both a tree and any semblance of a garden. Really, the place could've been raided at any moment on accounts of that...
As you knock on the door, you wonder why it hasn't. But, that quickly leaves your mind as the door opens and you're faced with your supplier: A guy only a few years older, with brown eyes, rough hair, and pale lips twisted into a sly smile. He's lightly built, having only some thirty pounds on you, fifty at most.
"Luka!" he begins, happily, "my favorite little bro! Welcome, welcome!" He steps aside and you gladly step inside.
"Heyya," you reply, "Jack." His full name's Jackson, but he prefers to go by Jack, and you don't particularly care.
"I take it you came around for more pot?" he asks, as he leads you down the halls of his house.
You're not paying your surrounds sufficient attention, with the pain and all. "Mhm," is all you reply.
"Coo', coo'," he says, "you know where it's at."
By that point, you've walked down into the basement, and finally survey your surroundings: its a lightly lit place, with a couch at the far end, a television across it, and a table on the side, lined with bags of weed of all kinds. You can't help but smile at all that lines the table.
"So," Jack starts, "how much money you got this time?"
You answer...
