Easy Money
I have a great desire to share my story with the world, even if that story contains subject matter not appropriate for young children.
It all began several weeks ago. My girlfriend Sasha had just returned from Spain, and she was loaded with what you might call a loaf of ‘dark and oily
bubble hash’. Well, she did her part, for you see it was I who engaged in distributing the goods all over Battersea. This was primo quality hashish,
directly imported from my friends in Morocco. The smell was outstanding and the high, GOD, it was something else! I could off it for no less than a
hundred per gram. It’s not that pricy, taking into account all the rubbish that is passed lately for Moroccan hash. The gang consisted primarily of my right-hand-man William D’Angelo (a.k.a Fat Billy), my girlfriend Sasha, who was of Russian decent, my driver Nick and of course myself. We had a good thing going on. Each month we will get a package like this one, and before the day was over, we would have already peddled it around the harbor. People all over London came to buy from us. We were THAT big. Not that we didn’t have competitors, of course we did, but I had it tight with the boss of local crime syndicate. He himself was into cocaine and heroin, but as far as hash went, he couldn’t care less. We paid our dues and had no trouble whatsoever, neither from the cops nor the other gangs, which were nevertheless always struggling for control. If, by any chance, something goes wrong we will send in the cleaners. The cleaners specialized in the “sanitation’ business. If someone was giving us trouble, we call the cleaners and that person never saw the sun again.
I had a pretty badass scale, so first thing we did is weight the shit, to see if everything was in order. Five grams bonus, now that is quality service! Next, we would divide the bulk into several smaller packages, for fast and easy distributing. Finally, I would call my regulars, letting them know what’s going on, and of course to secure a clean transfer once they arrive. The next phase of the plan is pretty much self-explanatory. We will arrange meetings with all our customers somewhere within Battersea, preferably in an open area. Last thing we want is to be shot dead by some deranged junkie freak. The hash will be stashed somewhere safe, like inside a rubbish bin, or behind a brick. They will give us the money and we will tell them from where to take the shit. After that, the only concern we might have is to how to
spend all of the money.
It all began several weeks ago. My girlfriend Sasha had just returned from Spain, and she was loaded with what you might call a loaf of ‘dark and oily
bubble hash’. Well, she did her part, for you see it was I who engaged in distributing the goods all over Battersea. This was primo quality hashish,
directly imported from my friends in Morocco. The smell was outstanding and the high, GOD, it was something else! I could off it for no less than a
hundred per gram. It’s not that pricy, taking into account all the rubbish that is passed lately for Moroccan hash. The gang consisted primarily of my right-hand-man William D’Angelo (a.k.a Fat Billy), my girlfriend Sasha, who was of Russian decent, my driver Nick and of course myself. We had a good thing going on. Each month we will get a package like this one, and before the day was over, we would have already peddled it around the harbor. People all over London came to buy from us. We were THAT big. Not that we didn’t have competitors, of course we did, but I had it tight with the boss of local crime syndicate. He himself was into cocaine and heroin, but as far as hash went, he couldn’t care less. We paid our dues and had no trouble whatsoever, neither from the cops nor the other gangs, which were nevertheless always struggling for control. If, by any chance, something goes wrong we will send in the cleaners. The cleaners specialized in the “sanitation’ business. If someone was giving us trouble, we call the cleaners and that person never saw the sun again.
I had a pretty badass scale, so first thing we did is weight the shit, to see if everything was in order. Five grams bonus, now that is quality service! Next, we would divide the bulk into several smaller packages, for fast and easy distributing. Finally, I would call my regulars, letting them know what’s going on, and of course to secure a clean transfer once they arrive. The next phase of the plan is pretty much self-explanatory. We will arrange meetings with all our customers somewhere within Battersea, preferably in an open area. Last thing we want is to be shot dead by some deranged junkie freak. The hash will be stashed somewhere safe, like inside a rubbish bin, or behind a brick. They will give us the money and we will tell them from where to take the shit. After that, the only concern we might have is to how to
spend all of the money.