If I Gotta Have a Snowman, He Can't Be White

I'm working on my car, and this forty-something white dude who looks like he was covered in wet dough and then sprayed with WD40 comes staggering down the street. Before I can even think, "When will this mongo come drool on me with some bullshit story trying to get some cash out of me?" this dusty mongo is already on me. He is right in my space. He looks at me, all wide-eyed, like Marlon Brando with a bug in his mouth, and blurts out, "Want some of this?!"

He unfolds his clenched fist, and there, in a messy ball of plastic baggy, is a bunch of oddly colored pills. "Want some of this? Only 20 bucks!"

"Do I want some of what?! Get your stinkin' face away from me, you friggin' stinky, sweaty mongo! I don't want your drugs. You are so stoned you likely mashed up some Flintstones chewables, soaked them in paint thinner and carried them in your ass crack for the whole day!"

Mr. Obviously-Not-From-This-Neighborhood (or Mr. Hey-Look-at-Me-From-a hundred-yards-and-see-that-I'm-stoned) looked at me like I was the one who stood out.

If I'm going to buy drugs, I ain't buyin' them from no stoned white dude. That's like buying a half-eaten sandwich from a fat man: there has to be something wrong with it.

Hey, when I want my drugs, if I want my drugs, I want some style, some pizazz. The guy selling them has be cool. He can't be stoned; in fact, he shouldn't even have the drugs on him. He should yell something at me while I'm driving through, and when I'm not looking; something discreet (as discreet as a yell can be), like "EEEER!" Then when I pull over to talk, he should send me down the street to his buddy, who is even cooler; he'll be a dude wearing a long tee, and a gold rope, properly dressed for the deal. Smart decisions, proper attire, and networking. That's what I appreciate in a business man.

If that white guy ever comes back to my neighborhood I'll have him arrested. If you are going to sell drugs, have some class: lift your head up, show me some respect. Trenton don't need no cracker spreadin' his crumbs on our beach!

Yours,
G Spot on the DownHigh!