Bad Judgment


“What price are we talking about here?” Snowy said to the man dressed in the Armani suit sitting across the table from him. The roadside café was packed full of people, it was lunch hour. The place was full of office types and factory grunts sat shoulder to shoulder eating the same shitty food served daily; it was a perfect place to get lost in the crowd and discuss business.

“Twenty K for the first batch and eighteen thereafter,” the man in the Armani suite said.

“Twenty?” Snowy said. “Isn’t that a little high, Sweet?”

“You can’t afford it, you go find some other nigger to supply you,” Sweet said.

Snowy began scratching his neck beneath his chin, thinking to himself he should have taken a hit first thing that morning.

“No man, I got that covered,” Snowy said, he was begging to sweat underneath his Adidas tracksuit. “It’s just a little high, that’s all.”





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