From the outside, one could sit back and surmise that our hero here had the world by the fucking balls. The real gig pouring money into his pockets, a mistress (for lack of a better word), a girlfriend, massive street cred, hood famous, the world of the East End at his fingertips, wanting for nothing really. The legit job was about the only thing that wasn't perfect in the warped and wonderful world of El Kono. Of course things are not always as they seem. It wasn't something i actually wanted to consciously dwell on but i knew i had worry. First and foremost being Veronica. There was the fact i had fallen pretty hard for her yet still didn't want to shake the foundation i had laid down. The reality was the weed business was still my main squeeze and in the end it seemed everything else was subservient to the needs of that. While the warehouse kept me honest so to speak by giving me some structure it wasn't exactly necessary for my survival at this point. There were rumors among those who needed this job about a possible merger with some other company and the warehouse moving or being shut down, i began thinking about plotting my exit. As for now though it kept up appearances.
Warehouses are funny places. There are always drugs to be had, any number, from multiple employees. I had walked in and cornered the weed market in this place. Three of my co-workers now firmly on my payroll. One moved quarter pounds, one half pounds or pounds, and one had graduated from elbows to a member of the Weight Crew, picking up five or more every time he showed up which was sometimes twice a week. I'm fairly certain the management, or some of them at least, had an idea i'm just not sure they knew the level at which i was slinging.
This particular place was divided up into counter salesmen, the pickers who picked the orders, the three guys in receiving (my departement), the shippers, and the GM who everyone claimed loved his blow. The pickers and shippers were given top billing by the GM, followed by the salesmen and then the receiving department. Seems in the legit world i was always at the bottom looking up but i didn't give a fuck cuz once i walked out the door i was the honcho. One could say it helped keep the ego in check but i can assure you it most certainly did not. The pickers, or some of them, were always rushing around due to the bonus they could receive each check for accuracy and number of orders completed. The one who took it the most seriously was Kenny and Kenny was a right pain in the ass.
Kenny looked like the valet from Ferris Bueller with his long greasy looking hair slicked back and pulled into a ponytail and his neatly trimmed goatee. He drove an old Lincoln which he felt the need to drive at top speed at all times, squealing out of the parking lot and tearing down the street. He lived in a trailer with his "old lady" who apparently was quite a bit older than he was and of course Kenny was a weird one, he looked older than he was and not in a good way. He was rail thin with teeth to big for his mouth, one would guess him as a meth-head if not for the fact he was way too uptight. He was a raging asshole most of the time and never made a mistake... at least one he would actually cop to. He would endlessly remind his co-workers that he was the "top picker" in the place, an accolade worth it's weight in dog shit. He loved to suck up to the GM and the GM in return would pull him to pick the "important" orders when he needed one pulled, partly to stroke Kenny's ego and partly cuz he knew Kenny would run around at top speed being a raging shithead to get it done. It goes without saying Kenny didn't have any friends among the lumpen-proles.
On this day i was aimlessly wandering around the warehouse stocking shelves as slowly as possible and daydreaming about Veronica. I knew at some point i'd have to make some hard decisions but the current strategy was to try not to worry about it and deal with it when it came up. Kenny was racing around the warehouse on a cherry picker. We used the cherry picker to get things from the high shelves, sometimes 30 odd feet up. It was a piece of heay machinery with a goofy steering wheel that we'd maneuver through the aisles. There were two of them and usually the receiving department commandeered one to put up the stock. At peak height they'd sway as you tossed shit onto the shelves and i'm amazed at how dangerous they could be and how little we were paid.
Kenny was in his usual rush to suck ass and get his order done when he came flying around the corner and clipped a stack of wooden pallets that proceeded to creak and groan and then topple over. He looked at me, got pissed, and began shouting that i fucked up and needed to pick those up because i put them there and he didn't have time to clean up my mess. I didn't put them there or fuck-up and stood there stone-faced looking at Kenny. I was known around the warehouse as a pretty easy going guy, mellow and calm, a bit aloof, in short a guy who didn't give a shit. As i stood there listening to this skinny fucking greasy shitball berate me for his being a fucking idiot the switch suddenly flipped to on.
As Kenny sped away on the cherry picker it started. I stood for second before turning and following him. He had jumped off the cherry picker and saw me coming as i started shouting, "you know what asshole, i'm gonna do what everyone wants to do and kick the fucking shit out of you you fucking prick!", by now Kenny was moving swiftly towards the one locking bathroom as i
began running full speed at him. He hit the shitter and locked the door a mere second or two before i slammed into it shaking the whole structure. The whole warehouse had stopped as i stood and pounded on the door. "I'm gonna kick your scrawny ass you fucking pansy! the only way i pick up the shit YOU knocked down is cuz your hands and fucking broken and you're in an ambulance you cunt!" This bit brought some whoa's and snickers from the warehouse crew. "You better stay in there all day you fucking asshole or you'll be eating through a fucking straw!"
By this time the GM had appeared and a couple of the guys had began to move me away from the locked bathroom door. Someone had explained to the GM that Kenny had knocked over the stack of pallets and then mouthed off at me and told me to re-stack them. The warehouse boys were laughing and joking about how fast Kenny had run and the look of unmitigated fear on his face. Kenny was roughly 5'9 and 130lbs. while i was seven inches taller and 60-70lbs heavier. It was not going to be a fair fight, in fact it was not going to be fight at all. The last thing i shouted as they pulled me away was, "you still gotta get to your car shithead!" and went back over the the receiving area. The GM told my supervisor to keep me checking stuff in and not putting stock away in order to keep me out of the aisles and away from Kenny. The GM then began talking Kenny out of his locked safe space and they went and re-stacked the skids, the guys joking that the GM was going to shadow his boy all day to make sure i didn't kick his ass. At quitting time the GM let Kenny go five minutes early and as he ran to his car someone yelled "run Forrest run!" to which we all had a good laugh. Kenny pealed out as usual and sped away.
As i stood on the loading dock in the grey afternoon one of my co-workers on my payroll came over to bullshit with me. Damn, he said, you scared the shit outta everyone man, we knew you were a bit crazy but now your officially a fucking psycho. He grinned and i laughed. He had it coming i said, then added may still have it coming, i added slyly, but i know how to be patient. He then asked if he could swing by and pick up another pound tonight and i said sure. I don't know why i bother with this shit i said. Muzz, my co-worker replied, those of us who know wonder why too. As i walked to my car i turned on the cell phone. Soon it would be lighting up. I wondered when i'd see Veronica next. I wondered if tomorrow i might beat the shit out of Kenny.