Saturday, nothing happens on Saturday. TV sucks, books seem less interesting (I’m reading Les Miserables), I’m all napped out and tired of exercise. I could call someone but Bobby is out fishing and Janet can’t hear. The other guys are as bored as I am and spend lots of time sharing war stories.
Maple Wood Apartments, O’Malley’s, Blue Sky Cafe and the Downtown Hotel are apparently major crack havens. Woof and Tom-Tuneless-whistling-assclown spent quite some time talking about the good old days buying crack, selling crack and stealing from people. Oh those boys, they are scamps no?
All this time I’ve lived in D-town and I had no idea that the drug problem was this bad. I mean, I knew that there was a lot of pot, speed and maybe a little coke and acid around but these guys (and several other dealers I’ve met) are talking like they’ve been moving tons of crack, coke, and heroin (which -amusing me to no end- is referred to as heron) pot, guns, speed, and serious pills.
If we take half of their stories as total BS, which is a safe bet, then D-town is no longer a nice place to be. That makes me sad. I like D-town.
I mean, it seemed like a nice place to raise my kids and all that. Well, still, I suppose it is still better than the big cities.