Dialog Class

Posted by on March 2, 2014 in Uncategorized | 0 comments

Dialog Class

Greetings all. Here is a sample of the results of my attendance at the Boston Grub Street Writers dialog class.

Back at the house I was chopping up lines in my office on my huge metal desk.

“How did you get this huge desk up that narrow tiny stairway?” Greg questioned.

“I didn’t, it was here when I moved in along with this cool chest.” I banged on the large old pirate chest with my open hand. Greg rolled up a bill as he walked over to the desk, sat down and snorted a couple lines.

I got right to the point, “Joe told me you did some time in prison, what did ya get busted for?”

“Yea I did a four year bid for forty-four felony counts.  Those bastards waited until I turned 18 to prosecute so that they could get me for hard time as an adult.”

I asked again, “How did ya get busted?”

“They got me dealing coke. I had a big operation going been doing it for ‘bout three years. Was movin’ a kilo every couple months.”

“A kilo’s 2.2 pounds right?” I added.

“Yea the cops got this undercover narc in my scene.  He bought off me for years so every time he scored off me they counted it as another felony.  Those fuckin’ cops had it in for me man,”

“Oh man that sucks,” I empathized.

Greg snorted a few more lines then continued. “I had it going on towards the end, didn’t even sell it myself anymore, had people sellin’ it for me. I was makin’ mad money.”

“How could you let a narc get into your scene, how does that happen?”

Greg’s forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows came closer together, “You wouldn’t believe this guy! He looked like a fuckin’ biker, long hair, big guy, older, rode a Harley even.  This guy I knew Tom, introduced me to him, said he was cool.  Tom ended up dating my mother and he’s like ten years younger than her.”

I moved closer to the desk to snort more lines, “Where’s the rolled up bill I wanna snort more coke.”

“Oh it’s in my pocket- here”

I continued with my questioning, “What did Tom have to say about all this when you got busted?”

Greg looked down, “Nothin’ he’s still dating my mother, moved in now.”

“You still deal coke?”

“No man that scene’s too fucked up. Coke heads get so desperate.”

“What do you mean- desperate?” I said as I passed the rolled bill back to Greg.

Greg paused to snort more lines than continued, “They would track me down, find me no matter where I was and beg me to sell them coke. They didn’t care who was around or who heard them.  They would do anything to get me to sell them coke, they would do whatever I wanted.”

“Like what?” I asked

“Sometimes I would just let them owe me and owe me.” Greg’s expression grew dark.

“How’d ya get your money then?”

“Me and my boys fucked with those desperate losers.  This one guy Johnny bugged me to keep givin’ him more coke on credit, kept comin’ up with bullshit lies on how he was gonna pay me back.  One day I grabbed my buddy and his ford pickup and drove it over to the maple street apartments where Johnny lived. The back of the truck lined up perfectly with the front door, and we emptied everything he owned out of his apartment. The whole time he was just tryin’ to get me to sell him more coke.  I told him he was shut off for life before we drove away and he just sat in the middle of him empty apartment and cried like a fuckin’ little baby.”

“There’s no more coke.” I said as I snorted the last of it.

“Fuck!” Greg exclaimed.

“I have some Xanax.” I was quick to respond.

“How many?” Greg asked.

“Plenty, how many do you want?”

“Um, three I guess,” Greg open his hand to receive the pills then continued talking, “I’ve got a good scene going on now movin’ pounds of Mexican pot far from all that shit that went down in my home town.”

“How do you move it, and from where?” I dug for more info.

He changed the subject, “This is a cool pirate chest I’m surprised the people left it, but I still don’t know how they got this big metal desk up here, they must have brought it up in pieces.”

I didn’t give up, “How much do you move at a time?”

“I saw some Jack Daniels down stairs, make me a drink.” Greg demanded.

I changed the subject back to Greg getting busted, “So you did four years?  Didn’t you have lawyers? You had money.”

“They tried to give me ten years buy my lawyers got it down to four.  Cost me most of my money.  I had thirty grand left that I gave to my mother to hold for me till I got out but she spent it on a couple trips to Aruba with Tom. Make me a Jack-n-Coke.”

“Okay I’ll go make you a drink.”

“I think the Xanax is kickin’ in,” Greg said as I walked down the stairs.

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