I walked down to the piggly wiggly this morning for some buttermilk. It was a casual walk while I listened to my radio. I walked up the steps past the flea market and Fred’s and there he sat.
“Oh shit!” I thought to myself. I did not want to go through this today.
It was George. My humble, not so shy, panhandler piggly wiggly groupie who thinks I am a long lost friend.
George cried out, “Hey, hey, man, come over here for a second.”
I sheepishly walked over and we started to talk. I was trying to find a way out of this conversation.
“Me and you are brothas, right?” he asked.
“Well, George…..” I started to reply as he cut me off.
“I got something for you.” he replied and then reached in his pocket. Out came a ziplock bag tied with a twist tie that pulled it into a ball. Inside were several off white rocks. I knew exactly what it was; it was crack cocaine.
“George, I do not do dope!” I replied.
“Come on man, I will give you a good deal. I am helping a brotha out.” George said.
I was broke and didn’t have any money and the last thing I wanted to buy was crack. I had to dig up some change to get my buttermilk and some loaf bread. My wife still has my SSI check and hasn’t brought it. I am dirt poor at the moment.
“George, you son of bitch, I don’t do dope and I would appreciate it if you left me alone. I am tired of this shit and I am tired of you bothering me.” I exclaimed.
George laughed nervously and then asked me to keep this between us.
“Don’t call the police man!” he said.
“I won’t call the police but leave me the fuck alone! I am tired of this shit.” I said with a raised voice.
Maybe George will get the message and leave me alone. I am so tired of being bothered every time I go to the store. If that bastard bothers me one more time I will call the police and see how he likes it behind bars.
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