“Hey, man, I got what you need.”
“I don’t want your hippie shit, fucko.”
“Dude, it’s the best shit ever.”
“Get the fuck away from me, you filthy hippie … Finally, Roscoe, where you been? I had this filthy jackhole trying to give me his nonsense.”
“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry. Did your lordship have to wait like five whole fucking minutes?”
“Funny. Very funny. Cut the crap.”
“Fine. How much?”
“How much you got?”
“Too much for you, your lordship.”
“Break me off a chunk of fifty.”
“Done. Wait here.”
“Hurry up before I kill this hippie scumbag.”
“Don’t worry. Back in a flash.”
“Uh huh.”
“Hey, man, I got what you need.”
“Hey, shithead. You already tried that one on me. Get a new sales pitch and go take a shower. You stink.”
“It’s the best shit ever.”
“Yeah, I bet. Go the fuck away, hippie.”
“Hey, you. You waiting for Roscoe?”
“Yeah.”
“He told me tell you the po-po hidin’ out down the street. No sale tonight. Come back tomorrow.”
“What the fuck is this shit? He already took my fucking money! Where is that cocksucker?”
“Roscoe won’t do you like that. You know he got a rep up in this block. He say he gonna do something, he do it. Come back tomorrow.”
“Rep or not, he’s got my fucking money. Take me to him.”
“No way, man! Roscoe’d kill me if I went and did a fool thing like that!”
“I don’t give a shit. He’s got my fucking money. I’m not leavin’.”
“I ain’t takin’ you to him. You wanna wait for the po-po to bust you, you go on then. I’m out.”
“Fuck you, asshole. Tell Roscoe he better fucking deliver.”
“He know that.”
“Tomorrow morning. 9AM or he’s dead.”
Fish Of Gold 