I Almost Got Away With It

The year was 2005, junior year of High School. It was when I first started to experiment with the sales of narcotics. I was young, dumb and determined. My mother would give me everything she could but my appetite for material things started to grow the more and more I got into the crowd. I wanted the expensive designer jeans, new sneakers before they hit stores, and I also wanted to live a certain lifestyle of having my own. Naive to the fact that I was young and there was only so much of independence one could perceive.

My mother use to give me an allowance a day. She taught me, "A man never leaves his house without money in his pocket." And that's exactly what I did. A friend of mine who lived right down the street sold marijuana. He always would tell me that he could get me started only when i had enough money. So i began to save the money my mother would give me and got my first half an ounce of haze. I started to move it around in school and my some of my friends would connect me to their friends. So on and so forth.



I started to get rid of the packs quicker and i was getting more or "re-up" on a consistent basis. I was making my friend money and so was I. But it still wasn't enough for me. My cousin at the moment was living out in Pennsylvania, so this one day he called me and said he was visiting the city but was going back the same night. He was wondering if I wanted to go, "Hell yeah. Just hit me up when you in the city."

I loved and still love Lacoste

He said he was going to be in the city later that night so I quickly thought i could get a better strand of marijuana and sell if for even more over there. I gathered some of the profit money i had left from all the clothing I've bought and hanging out I've done. Before I got the call to come down, i had already met up with my friend and got a whole ounce of Sour Diesel. Off to Pennsylvania we went that same night. He didn't know that i was rolling in his car with this ounce of marijuana.
Later that night we hit up a party where i was able to skimp on my "dime" bags and still sell them for double what they are worth. I made a killing. I went back home the next day with more profit i thought i was even planning on getting.

Things were moving so fast that i was afraid of the serious consequences that could happen. So i slowed down to then eventually stop. This one rainy day in the school cafeteria I expressed to my friends of how i felt and I wanted to stop. I was growing up fast and i wasn't ready for what's to come. Now i slowly became careless because i felt invincible, the money was rolling in and i was having fun, with a tad bit of paranoia.
Going home I felt brand new, I knew what i had to do. Now later that year "snorkels" where in style and i wanted one. What was also in style were big clothes, so that means i had to get a "snorkel" and it was big. I mean huge. But that was the style. (That was my style and I'm sticking to it) Now for those who don't know what a "snorkel" is, it was a style of North Face coat that was very popular that year and the ones following. When I would come home i would skin the coat off of me and just drop it right near the door. The lack of respect i had for these things. My grandmother would always complain, "Why do you throw the coat there? You have a closet for a reason."
I didn't listen i would come home and still drop the coat right near the door. Tired of this irresponsible act, she took the coat and threw it in my room as to insinuate, put it in your closet. I took the coat and just threw it on my queen size bed. Being so skinny, a bed like that seems, well lonely. So i just laid it on the other side of where i would usually sleep. The coat was so huge that if felt as though there was actually someone next to me. That also bothered my grandmother. "Put it in your closet."
I still didn't listen.
Now back to that first infamous walk home. I entered the apartment and immediately noticed that my bedroom door was open. That instantaneous got my blood boiling because i hate when people go through my things without my permission. When i go in i see two suitcases on my bed. "What the hell are these damn maletas doing here? Coño." i curse at the air.
I walk toward the bathroom where my grandmother was doing her hair. "¿Que hacen esa maletas ensima la cama mia?"
She stops doing her hair, turns around and signals me into her room. I follow her as she stands in front of her dresser. She nods her head pointing to what lays on it. Two ounces of haze, eight hundred dollars and baggies wrapped in a rubber band.

I got careless because i usually had drugs laying around in my room but i would normally lock the door to my room. In a hurry that day for school, I didn't lock it. It also didn't help that i was careless enough to have drugs stashed through out my room. But what really got be in trouble besides the lack of care was my "snorkel" which i prized.
Going into my room that day she saw that the coat on top of my bed. She got mad that i again didn't listen to her demand of putting the coat in the closet. So she took it upon herself to put the coat inside the closet for me. The closet was man made with sheet rock and slabs of wood, but it was narrow. As she struggles to put this huge body size coat into this small closet the arms of the coat knocked out the drugs which i was stashing in the side crevice of the closet which was exposed enough to stack up the drugs, the money and baggies. But it wasn't enough to handle a coat being wrestled in the closet.
She made me flush down six hundred and forty dollars of marijuana and pack my stuff up and go.

I'll never forget that day. Its something i will tell my kids and something i can now share with you guys. The moral of the story is obvious, don't buy huge coats.