Met this guy about a month ago, Jack. Jack the Weedman. Unreliable, inconsistent but close as shit. When I first met him he said he could deliver, especially since we live in such close proximity to each other. Come to find out, this dude has a little black book full of excuses for not delivering.
"My roommate has the car right now." (Despite him claiming the car was his)
"I have people over right now." (Turns out, it's his roommate visiting the living room)
Or the most popular excuse that comes about 3 hours after the initial request, "You still need that?" Yes, I do still need that. 45 minutes later: "My roommate has the car right now."
ajhgfhjagfdlhagsldgf YOU FUCKIN KIDDING ME
Cut to: earlier this afternoon, I'm cleaning my apartment and realize I could be stoned doing this. I call him and his cousin (another drug dealer that sucks at selling drugs) answers. I've met him once before but he's a total pothead so our one session together might not have stayed in his memory bank but got washed away by a green wave of smoke. I try to jog his memory ("...the girl with glasses?") and ask for Jack.
"He's upstairs - he'll be a few minutes, I'll have him call you back."
"Okay cool thanks."
Click (or "tap" or "sliede", whatever)
This was at about 3. About half-hour ago I sent him a text with three question marks, that's all. He replies "sorry ten mind [sic]". That was at 5:03, he replied at 5:06, I replied with my address (again) -- it's 5:25.
At this point, I'm just being stubborn for not going over there but fuck it. This dude said he delivers. YOU'RE GONNA DELIVER TONIGHT, DUDE. The fuck.
This fucking guy.
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