Stories of a secret life (bonus)

eelgrass

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This is a short one and kind of funny because anyone who lives around here has experienced her observation.

SoHum Wisdom

She's just going to grab a couple of bottles of water while he pumps the gas so she heads into the convenience store as a huge black Ford covered in dirt rolls into the station. She smiles over her shoulder at the fat fuel transfer tank riding in the bed of the truck like a favorite dog.

She thinks about how dirty her own car is and stares blankly at the wall of brightly covered beverages (all chilled to perfection) for somewhere near a minute before she remembers what she came for. Grabbing the water she heads to the registers and finds herself standing behind six patrons. She frowns a little then begins to study them. She is inspecting an older man?s handmade leather sandals & in her mind?s eye she pictures the booth at the Summer Arts Fair when she hears the young man in the front of the line say ?Three hundred on pump eight.?

Her eyes snap up to the register and she watches as he deftly thumbs through a large wad of cash. Flipping the bills onto the counter, he says, ?Thanks Man? to the cashier & strolls back past the line, out the door & over to the Ford. The line neither moves forward or speaks for a moment? all watching as the young man jumps up into the bed of the truck & an older man ? who must have been in the truck when they pulled in ? passes the diesel hose and nozzle up to him.

In the store someone in line speaks. ?He needs alot of diesel.? There is a little snicker in the tone. She looks back at the people in line. They and cashier are all smiling still staring at the men and the slowly filling tank.

A second voice this one belonging to a young blond boy says, ? His GENERATOR needs alot of diesel.? There is a general chuckle growing now.

The teenage girl in the short skirt with big pretty eyes says,?Why doesn't he call Renner? That's just retarded.? (my note: Renner is a local distributor with a closed mouth and a short memory) Her tone is that ?I know everything? tone & grates the nerves a little, but still the Woman smiles at the girl and shrugs her shoulders in agreement.

The older man in the handmade shoes chimes in. ?That's gonna ruin his suspension in two runs man.?

Back at the front of the line a suggestion, ?He should at least get a camper shell.?

The blond boy pipes back up, ?Yeah, but it's a fuckin? pain trying to do it though the window.? A general murmur of agreement follows.

One last customer, a woman who wore clothes that shouted ?practical mature comfortable? shook her head slowly.?Subtle, kid subtle??

The show began to lose its appeal and the customers began moving again. The register rang her items and she strolled out dying to tell her Man the tale of the gas station peanut gallery. Smiling she walks toward him & her eyes see him ? A big man in camo pants & muddy boots, hair to long for the real world, filling up a nice shiny four wheel drive with mud slung up both sides & she hears, ?Subtle, kid subtle.? Momentarily her smile falters? then broadens. He looks up & sees the bright laughter in her eyes.

?What's so funny, Baby??

She relates the story (but leaves out her observations) & crawls back in her glass house tightly gripping her stone.
 
Very interesting stories especially since I've never been around that culture at all.
That author seems to have too much insight to have not been a part of the lifestyle.
Thanks EEl.
Zeke
 
I remember the High Times magazine in the 80s. That stuff isn't good for anyone unless it's some cancer patient maybe. They get high and waste too much time.
 
Being stupid is the downfall of most dopers. They will pull stunts as described above and wonder how the cops got on to them and raided them.
Some of my best informants were clerks in various stores who would write down the license number of customers that were buying items for obvious drug manufacturing. I would be careful not to reveal where I obtain the information to protect the informant from reprisals and just use their information as a lead to develop enough facts to obtain search warrants.

The ones I really loved were the loudmouth bragging doper that sits in a bar and brag about how much he is going to make on his next batch and not know there were several informants in that bar with him and listening to his every word.

RELH
 
I could send you my son. He is a supervisor in the narcotics and gang unit that incorporates officers from 5 agencies in our area. He knows how to gain numerous informants that keep him supplied with information.

Here is a example of being stupid in a bar by a doper. I had a confidential informant call me via phone and tell me that "john Doe" was in the local bar last night bragging about how we only found one of his marijuana fields, but he just finished harvesting the two fields we failed to find.

He also shot off his mouth about how he hated me because I had arrested several of his doper buddies and he was going to burn down my house one night to get even.

"John Doe" doper lived about 1/4 mile from my residence. Since the informant was a tested reliable informant, I obtained a search warrant based on the informant's information and raided "John Doe" dopers house. I questioned him and of course he denied having any dope and denied threating to burn my house down.

Well we found his 30 pounds of marijuana hidden in a water heater closet of his mobile home. I looked the S.O.B. in the eye and told him I now knew for sure that he bragged about burning my home and advised him what was going to happen to him if he should try and carry the threat though.
S.O.B. got out of jail on bail and jumped bail and fled the state. Was picked up about a year later on the Eastern coast and spent the next 5 years in prison. He never moved back here after getting out of prison.

One of these days I will tell you about the doper that I moved out of here and he takes up residence in Dude's part of the country for better health reasons.

RELH
 

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