“If you’re going to be selling weed in New York,” I advised him, “never work out of your own home unless it’s with the dearest of long-term friends. Otherwise someone might not hesitate to kick your door in, splatter your brains all over the wall, take your pounds of weed, and laugh about it while they smoke it over your corpse. Or, conversely, you may find yourself rotting in jail as the lawyer who you paid to defend you smokes your weed, which he just bought from the cop who busted you. Welcome to New York, Fuckface!”
Read it in Vice.
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