Cracking Up
“I followed him outside to the car park. He stopped dead besides a brand spanking new, gleaming black beamer, a fine specimen of wheels. He was only about twenty two at the time, decked out in top quality designer gear and driving a swanky motor that most lads that age usually only get to wank about in their wet dreams. Flash bastard! “Top motor, man.”“730, Ow-wee. It’s a workhorse. Got it off someone that owed me dough.”We got in and screeched off out of the car park, tunes blaring, Wiley’s Can You Hear Me?, on a mission to find a toilet discreet enough to excrete the contraband out of my bloated bowel. Dog Sick began explaining how he was entering into a joint venture with Rez in Spain. They were going to well and truly smash it, off-loading huge amounts of devil dust on the market. They had managed to make contacts and secure a plentiful supply of chisel from a bulk shifter in the Paella place. There were massive returns to be made in this game and they intended to take the corner o...f this market by storm.MoreLess
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