The Wilderness Years- It Ain't Easy

Business is business and you'll never know that more than when you're in a business that's only laws are don't get caught, of course if you are in a business like that you have no form of say, legal re-course if you get fucked on a deal so it then boils down to what they taught me in 8th grade social studies class, a concept called opportunity cost, see in the game there are an awful lot of fuck-ups, in fact i'd say 8 out of every 10 people you deal with is a complete and utter moron, most hellbent on getting wasted and having a good time and acting the part of the heavy, the guy with the connections, you'll be lucky to ever meet him, you might know someone who knows him, someone who can get things for you but it takes awhile to actually get in his good graces, to get granted an audience, even if he still works the bars for his small time clientele, alot will depend on when you meet him and what you can do for him, see we already know what he can do for you, so have you shit in order which leads us to Techno Tim.

Techno Tim was the classic rich kid, a trustafari with a slush fund, he wore expensive clothes and liked to dance, he drove a big fat SUV and hung with the brothers breaking and popping his way into no one's pants, i met him through a couple of sexually ambiguous hairdressers, guys who had girlfriends but seemed to enjoy each other's company alot more than say i'd enjoy my male friends company but that's superfluous, the sexually ambiguous hairdressers were good guys, they had the dosh in order and did their thing, of course they had some lame brained schemes they'd run by me now and then but i was pretty much used to that from every one i associated with, they vouched for Techno Tim and so he got in the door, he'd stand there in my room shucking and jiving to his own personal soundtrack and i'd bag and weigh and send him on his way, he wasn't what i'd call a bad sort just real fucking annoying...

And so it was that Techno Tim was selling an oz. of the finest in a gas station parking lot to some bubble gummer who had set him up, at least that was his story, a second strike for TT as he was recently popped for a DUI and possession not a month or two before, of course in this business one needs to have a very fine and delicate bullshit detector so when TT called me up to tell me he got popped i immediately told him i'd call him back, from a fucking payphone, cuz sometimes those fucking detective movies ain't lying, and so it was that Techno Tim told me how he'd been set up and this was his second case in as many months and he didn't know what to do, i subtly pointed out that his mother was a lawyer and he didn't seem to really be hurting for money so maybe he should get a reference from mom and find himself a fucking pit bull to go to down on a couple of uniforms and get it reduced to a fine, he sighed and told me that the fuzz were leaning on him and i got that feeling like i might either throw-up or bludgeon the phone, now when presented with news like this one must remain calm and not show any sign of weakness so i calmly informed Techno that he might want to think long and hard about what information he might wish to divulge cuz it would be a shame if the world was deprived of his stellar dance moves do to an unfortunate accident, now on the other end of the line came a slight quickening of breath and the words came spilling out that he was cool and he'd never say shit and he knew it wasn't much weight he was just worried about the accumulation of his offenses, to which i replied that i wasn't worried about his other fucking offenses i was more concerned with the problem at hand and of course the small fact that i had fronted him a half fucking pound of grass... i told him that there was no need to call me for the time being and that i'd be in touch...

Now the news would have you believe that the world is run by huge cartels that produce and distribute and what not and though that may be true in a few cases, in H'america it is mainly a hodge-podge of independent contractors all doing their thing, basically like an insurance agent with a bit more danger involved, so one needed to have muscle in case such situations arose or better yet the illusion of muscle, cuz here's where it gets tricky, one must decide if it is worth it to fuck someone up or more prudent to take a loss and keep on rolling, of course sometimes something must be done or everyone and their mother will try to fuck you over but if you manage to keep the nimrods apart and from talking, nimrods being the customers/foot soldiers then the illusion of violence can work extremely well, especially if you're tall with the ability to become somewhat unhinged when necessary and so it was that after a few more tense conversations with Techno Tim i advised him that we would no longer be doing any business and that if i happened to see any, say, unmarked cars or muppets loitering around my humble abode, i would be heading out to his neighborhood pronto to end his fucking dancing career...

And that was it, i thought, until one fine Tuesday night down at Tony's Lounge, a strip club that looked like your uncle's basement complete with a door that opened out to the street so that every now and then you'd see a bunch of 13yr olds swing the door open and stare wide eyed at the stage, my young pit bull of a friend T-Bag and i were having a few beers and helping the kind girls pay their way through college, cuz i don't think i've ever met a stripper who wasn't pursuing an advanced degree, when who walks in but Techno Tim and his sidekick Kool Moe Dee, now Techno immediately motions to the bartender to buy me a drink and she gives it to me and him and KMD come sauntering over, so of course it's all yuk yuks and back slaps from my boy Techno Tim and T-Bag, who knows the story with this guy, is standing behind me and whispering not to softly, "do you want me to knock this motherfucker out?" and i assure him that it'll be alright and since TT and KMD are picking up on a bit of tension in the air KMD tries to regain a bit of footing by saying, "you're Kono?, did you used to score hash from those dudes up on Chesterfield?" and i nod and say yes that was me but this was a good six or seven years ago at this point and then he proceeds to tell me that his right hand is fucked up cuz he had to "splttter" some fool the other night and i smile politely and comment that that's good, when the shit kicks off i won't have to worry about his right and thank him for the info...

So we drink our drinks and Techno starts dancing, which i'm starting to wonder if it isn't some kind of fucking nervous tick at this point, he begins his routine, which i've been waiting for, as T-Bag and KMD eyeball each other in a rather unpleasant fashion, TT is all about getting back in my good graces and goes on and on about what a righteous motherfucker i am and how the fuzz put a lot of heat on him to roll and how i'm like the king of of fucking cool and man would it be great to get back on the team and as he's saying this he puts his hand on my shoulder while i'm sitting at the bar watching my favorite brunette strutting down the stage and i wad up a tenner and toss it towards her and she smiles and blows me a kiss and then i tell Techno Tim to get his fucking hand off me...

About the only thing that could have ratcheted up the tension more is had the needle slipped off the record and i calmly looked at TT and asked, "what about the other seven?" and he's like what? and repeat the other seven, there are eight fucking ounces in a half pound and he got caught selling one, so would you like me to say it slower? the other seven and my fucking money? where'd it go? and now of course TT is stumbling and stuttering and and slobbering out excuses about the heat and the lawyer and what the fuck and i calmly remind him that he's a fucking rich kid, of course then we learn that the trust fund only gets doled out once a year and blah blah fucking blah, i'd heard enough, i cracked a smile and said "sit down dickhead" and he looked at me like i just fucked his imaginary girlfriend and KMD was all clucking away and T-Bag was muttering that i should just let him beat the shit out of the fools but i smile at T-Bag and tell him to stand down, then i turn to KMD and tell him to sit down and shut the fuck up cuz this has nothing to do with him and that though he might not run with the best crowd these days he gets a pass for his Chesterfield days, i then turn what T-Bag would call the 1000 yard stare onto TT and explain to him that we ain't friends or bro's or business acquaintances, in fact we're nothing, that the $1000 or so dollars he owed me was the cost i absorbed for being stupid and fronting shit to a fuck-up, a fuck-up who had the money to pay but didn't feel like it and that my loss also bought me his silence and in the end his silence is more valuable than anything, valuable for my business and valuable to his health and that if what i bought is not as it seems his current health could take a turn for the worse, Techno Tim sat there staring at me mouth agape and i patted him on the shoulder and said now that we understand each other you have a nice life...

i then turned to the bartender and told her to get me a six pack of Heineken to go, she looked relieved that i'd calmed down and as i glanced around i noticed that the few patrons in the place had become visibly nervous at the action going on at the bar, the place wasn't that big and though it was loud it was pretty easy to tell that things were not all copacetic between the four gentleman at the bar, by the time it all shook out my favorite brunette was walking past and i ordered her a shot and she gave me a hug and looked at TT and said, "don't get him riled up, you boys could get hurt" and made her way towards the dressing room, the bartender set my six pack on the bar and rang up the beers and the shot and as she told me the total i laughed and said "Tim's getting that" and headed for the door as he slid his money towards her.