Bad Weekend For Uber

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After being on the prowl for a while with no luck, I decided to close up shop and go home. After I went offline, I dug into my messenger bag for a snack I packed for such an occasion.

I freed a joint from my bag and popped that rolled piece of heaven up in my mouf. I fired it up, pumped up the jam, and hit the road.

Thirty minutes later I arrived in ***********,  and some grungy man stood next to the off ramp with a small cardboard sign. He approached the large U-haul truck in front of me and stood there for a bit, it appeared that they were talking. When the light turned green, the U-haul drove off almost knocking him down.

I hit up a Michael’s. I was pretty damn stoned, but I didn’t care who knew. It wasn’t like I was hiding it. I got stuck in the drawing aisle for a while and debated on what I was going to buy.

I didn’t really need anything. I just decided to pop in on a whim and look at some bristol board. I hate going inside retail stores, but when I’m marinated, I often don’t give a shit about much.

After what was probably a very long time of going back and forth between products, I decided it was time to go home.

After leaving the parking lot, I saw two cars pulled over on the side of **** ****** road with their hazard lights flashing. A young male hopped out of the first car and he ran back several yards stopping the cars approaching with his arms stretched out. He crouched down and picked up a brick of money banded together.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I couldn’t see what kind of bills they were, but it could have easily been ten grand in that brick if not more. The young guy smiled at the car stopped only few feet from him. I watched in my mirror as he shrugged at the driver walking backwards.

I wasn’t sure how to feel after that.

I do know, that if I was that guy, I would have started humping the fuck out of that green brick of dirty paper—right there in the middle of the street.

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