Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 77663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I covered up the scars from his beatings with ink starting at the age of sixteen. Mom, on the other hand, tried her best for a while. I seem to remember a few moments, but by the time I was eight or nine, she got hooked on some shit, and shit went south.
At sixteen, I started selling weed. I’d drive out of town and buy it by the ounce at first. No, I didn’t sell to my friends or other kids, and neither did I sell to the poor and weak like my parents; those people should be feeding their damn kids. I wouldn’t give them even a leaf.
No, my targets were the men and women working in the high-rise office buildings in the cities surrounding my little town. You’d be surprised to find out where I got the idea from TV. I used to watch a lot of badass movies, but I took notes, and believe me, that shit works.
I stole the first money I needed from my father’s stash. By that point, he was into gambling, but he wasn’t so far gone that he would sell his own mother to raise a pot that came later. I knew he had this money because he could never keep his mouth shut when he was drunk off his ass.
He'd won big at the casino. A couple grand. Now, here’s the thing: by then, I had a little pizza delivery job. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to allow me to buy my clothes for the school year with a little extra to fuck around with my friends, that’s if mom didn’t get into my stash and use all of it to get high.
She’d tried talking me into opening a bank account with her as the controller, but I just laughed in her face and went on my merry way. Now, before I started selling, I did my homework. While delivering pizza, I knew who was smoking from the smell when they opened the door.
That’s the first time I realized that rich people get high as fuck too. I tested the waters with this one family I delivered to a lot by accidentally dropping a bag while delivering their ten pizzas that Friday night. That was their standing order: ten pizzas every Friday.
I’d overheard the wife bitching once, so I knew that it was the dude’s poker night with friends, and he always made her fuck off somewhere else while he was doing his thing. “Oh, sorry about that.”
“No worries, young’un.” He grinned at me like we were in on the same secret. When he smelled the bag, I knew I had him.
“Whoa, where did you get this?”
“It’s my personal grow.” It wasn’t then, of course, I didn’t start growing my own shit for years to come, but that’s a different story for another time. But I knew enough to know that good weed is hard to come by, and if you can have that shit delivered with no risk to yourself from the asshole cops, then even better.
He was my first customer. I took a beating because Dad just knew that I was the one who took his money, but that first grand turned into five, and there was no looking back for me. I was door-dashing weed before it was a thing.
My clientele grew from that first poker party dude to his friends and their friends, and before you knew it, I was delivering weed to those offices under the pretense of making lunch deliveries. Then I’d go back to class like nothing happened.
I didn’t change anything about myself and never sold to anyone in my area. No one knew what the hell I was up to. If I had a new pair of shoes, I had a pizza delivery job so that’s how I could afford it. I bought the cheap shit, same as always. Meanwhile, I had stacks of cash buried in the backyard in the spot where I did my target shooting practice.
Neither of my parents paid too much mind to me at that point; they were just happy to have me out of their hair and I was happy to be left alone to do my own thing. That’s how I was able to start a grow back there without anyone knowing.
The area back there was government-owned land that nobody ever checked for whatever reason, and it was perfect. I know, these days I have a whole operation with nurseries and shit, but back then, I just let that shit grow in the wild.
I learned everything I needed to know about harvesting and curing weed because while those people I was delivering to in their cushy offices were making two grand a week, which was a lot back then, I was making that shit in a day.