Chapter One

Coming into high school I had similar interests as the other kids with a slightly different motivation: Money - cash mother fucking money! I was in the "Master's" program for science and math but, all I wanted to learn was how to make money. To that end, all of my great instincts and morals were instilled by my piece of shit neighborhood. And just think, to my parents it was a great neighborhood. HA!! They worked hard to move me and my sister here and then burned out trying to keep us here. Bensonhurst, where we were before, was bad news with the unwed mothers and wannabe Mafia guys but you can't live in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn without learning the words "Scheme", "Jumped" and "Weed" before your 12th birthday.

And it was usually way before... I started high school with a chip on my shoulder from being around all the older kids and taking a lot of shit because I was younger. I wasn’t looking to be playing with GI Joes. I was looking to chill and be like the older guys. It's hard being young with a need to support a massive weed habit.

Yeah don't be shocked, it’s a half block past smoking cigarettes and around the corner from popping ecstasy. Even if I wasn't eating 3 meals a day I still had to smoke my three blunts for head and get down on four or five sessions with my peoples.

The same shit was not going to go down, that I had seen, since I started hanging out in the neighborhood. And you better believe it didn't. I am definitely not stupid. You see I watched the older guys fighting to be king of the corner. Pimp of the block. I learned quickly that you had to stand out and make people fear you. Keep them guessing - they can never know what you're going to do next. I needed money. Cash mother fucking money. I could never have enough. Bagging groceries became selling comics that turned into selling fireworks to moving that shit that keeps you happy. After making my bones, you know, getting a reputation around school, I started to make it known that I was “the go-to guy”. When anything, that anyone needed, could be gotten through me.

Anything. And yeah, I do mean ANYTHING. Standing 5'6 and weighing a buck and a quarter I am definitely not a big guy. Well maybe in some places, but I am not intimidating at first glance.

This will change shortly as we meet the boys. Everyone on this Earth is good for at least one thing. Hell, even a fucking idiot-savant can do one thing great. The people who I keep around me serve their function and as soon as they are useless they are non-existent. Don't get me wrong, I talk a good game and I can hang with the best of them. Shit I've smoked blunts with murderers and millionaires in the same cipher but I am a true geek inside. I have been in front of a computer since I was 6 years old. School just came easy to me and it is just started to be the perfect breeding ground for my plans. And oh boy, did I have big plans. Can you hear the gleaming noise coming off of my smile?

The rest of my first day at school went well and I set my eyes on this amazing girl in my global studies 3rd band class (we didn't have periods we had bands and we didn't have free periods we had OPTA's.) Her name was Jessica and I sat on her right hand side. I just couldn't stop staring at her. I decided I will make her mine sooner or later. I was already getting to be a cocky motherfucker and it did turn out to be sooner rather than later. Can you imagine she told our teacher, Mr. Franklin on me for copying off of her Biology quiz the first week of school? Oh yeah that was the beginning of the end for her. I love a challenge and this just made me want her more. (Gleam!) But more on that later, now back to our story. I expect that you are either reading this book for enlightenment or just for entertainment so let's get down to business. And let me give you what you are looking for.

The first time I smoked weed I got high. Most people say that they don't get high the first time but I got retarded, wasted and annihilated. That is because we only smoke the goods, the Motts, killers, murders, or hydroponic chronic. Regular stick and seed weed is for amateurs - pure suckers who don't know any better. Once you go hydro there's no going back to regs I guess if you don't know, you just don't know, son. Regular weed goes for $1500 a pound... A lb. Or elbow. 16 zips works out to less than $100 an ounce. That's just for sale as filler. Then you got the Motts and it costs about $1600 a QP or quarter pound. Yeah math majors that's 4 times as expensive, are you surprised? Don't be.

You spend more money on better alcohol right? How much does a bottle of Don P cost? The first time I smoked, after the purple haze started to wear off, I realized that if I liked this shit this much, other people must love it as well. Then thoughts of how to capitalize started running around my head, bouncing around. I thought if I could buy this shit in quantity, on the arm, I would be able to move it no problem. All I needed was a connect. And who better to use than my dealers connect. I needed a plan if I was going to do this properly and then it just started to flow.

I slept like a baby that night and woke up reborn. I skipped my first 3 classes and dragged myself to school. Then, after school, I beeped my boy Earl from the pay phone on his sky pager. He called back 2 minutes later and I let him in on a few key details, just enough to facilitate the plan.

"Yo, E can you come through on a Z of the Motts?"

"Yeah Sint, but do you have the green for the green? It's gonna be at least four hundred on the zip."

"No doubt, It's a little steep but you think you can introduce me to your man?"

"I'll have to ask but it shouldn't be an issue dog.”

"Good Looking Out."

And that was it the conversation that started it all. It actually didn't wind up panning out and dude wouldn't meet me because who the fuck am I right? I got my Zip for $375 and it put me in the right state of mind. The “I need money” state of mind. The “bag it and move it” state of mind. And the “I'm going to get it at any cost” state of mind. Feel me? Off to the village to pick up some baggies. Yeah you can buy anything in the head shops in the east village. Fake ids, whippets, blunts , bags, triple beams and digital scales. Doug wanted a new bong so he came along. It was always an issue to get the guy in the store to sell me shit. I knew his name and he knew mine but every time he put up a fight. It got real old real fast.

"What up Akmed"

"Oh how can I help you today sir?"

"Give me the book to look through I think I want a couple hundred .5 x .5’s with the smiley faces on them but I want to see them. Do you have anything new?"

Akmed had a binder with sample bags and their sizes and prices. He kept this behind the counter and only brought it out when he was sure you were not a cop.

"Sorry I don't know what you are talking about, my friend. Maybe I can interest you in some Strawberry Rolling Paper?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Fuck you and your strawberry rolling paper my friend. Listen to me closely Akmed, we do this dance every time. Give me the fucking book before I go down the block to the other store."

He handed me the binder of drug or “jewelry” bags. There where hundreds to choose from skull and cross bone fifty piece bags to fluorescent pink coke 20 bags all the way to crack vials and glass weed jars. I copped 300 various at $4 a hundred. Alright now you are a few pages in and haven't bitched out we can really get down to our story.