I once knew this dealer called spike (probably not this real name). Typical skinhead white guy, kinda racist, had the same face tattoo as Mike Tyson but his was white and apparently glowed in the dark.
He sold fat 20 bags of piff (and probably other stuff, I never asked) Sometimes he’d get me to pick up from his house instead of sending one of his runners out. We’d just smoke a few joints and play Fallout (he was terrible but I never dared give him any pointers)
He was generally a really nice bloke who had some weird philosophical ideas on being a human and living in such a mess of a world.
Last I heard he’d fucked a guy up with a samurai sword and left the country.
Just a little story I remembered while taking a shower.
it’s weird hearing your dad talk about you when he doesn’t think you can hear him. at least i actually know how much he hates me now. aint even mad, im a massive disappointment.