Some people call it illegal. I call it a living.
It’s really more like survival. It’s not easy being an unpublished author.
Along the way though, I gotta make my nut.
A text message comes through: “Can u do 1 4 15?”
Well, I didn’t curse. I got sales to make.
She clarifies. “Can you do one for 15?”
This is a 20-dollar ballgame, bitch.
The nerve of this whore.
She’s kind of pretty though, so I tell her, 2 for 35.
She’s with it.
Next. A call comes through, gotta drive over to Whitestone.
I’m not thrilled about that either, but those guineas spend good money.
Better on weed than hair gel.
I drive all the way over here to sit around for 20 minutes lookin’ for cops before he mans up and tells me he doesn’t want it anymore.
Fuckin’ assholes in Whitestone, all of them. Typical Whitestone jerk-offs.
Back to Bayside: where the real money is.
It’s “Crank” again.
He always wants credit.
But, he always pays back the next day.
Ahh, if I only I had more customers who were gay.
The phone rings.
I look down at it.
The milf of my life, Verna.
She says she’ll be calling me in 4 hours.
Really? Thanks for the fucking update.
All these Custees on this phone. Most of them are cool, but even more of them are dumb.
Then, finally, after 3 hours of hardcore doing nothing difficult, I get a moment of peace.
I pull over on the side of the road and take out my manuscript:
I begin reading through Chapter 3 again.
Needs work, but I’m on to something, here.
There’s great grammar in it.
Then Verna calls back again. She wants to know if I can pick up a Philly for her.
You call me 4 hours in advance to see if I can pick you up a Philly blunt?
But more importantly, it’s 2013.
Who the fuck 60 and older still smokes Philly blunts?
She gives good head, though.
I’ll bring it to her later.