He’d open the door and immediately be accompanied by that trademark ding that gas station doors tend to be equipped with, maybe a friend or two with him. He’d glance at the register (which is the same as looking at me, as a cashier I’m simply an extension of the cash register) with an impulsive head nod, searching my face for some trace of approval that I suppose I always relayed. It didn’t matter to me. Then he’d proceed to the far right of the beverage cooler and get a 38-ounce bottle of smirnoff ice or some other such drink, he could only manage the courage to get a bottle or two, for whatever reason. He’d come to the counter and dap me up, show me his vertical ID that I’d previously asked him to hand to me horizontally for the purpose of the ever-watching eye of the great camera glaring behind/above my head at all times, eternally, well as long as the circle k was in operation. I’d bag the bottles and whatever departing exchanges would take place and he’d leave. I remember once in the infant stages of my rehearsals of leaving circle k and becoming a drug dealer, I inquired if he’d like to purchase any pills, supporting my eminent quitting, I had uppers and downers, everything you can want as far as pills go, besides opioids, which at the time I wouldn’t be associated with for whatever strange reason. He declined and avoided the further probes of my offer(which simply consisted of me asking if he happened to know anyone else that did ingest chemicals that came in pill form— aunt,brother,friend?). I guess he didn’t do pills, just drank his liver rotting beverage of choice, smirnoff ice. That’s the misunderstanding in the western world about drugs—these constructed distinctions between drugs, if you ingest something in any fashion, whether it be through the mouth or rectum or intravenously injected, its a drug: pepsi, m&m’s, pretzels, bagel bites, muffins, xanax, coffee, water, they’re all chemicals metabolized in your body shifting your consciousness and perception however subtle or drastic through sugar, caffeine, h2o, alprazolam, fructose, they’re all substances. Ofcourse you aren’t supposed to pop xanax every day for any amount of time(unless ofcourse you’re prescribed them, then you’ll take it everyday and have your dosage augmented every three months), as you aren’t supposed to have a pepsi every day if you expect longevity.
Me, I, myself, zeddy, never strove to achieve longevity, but if habitual usage of a substance was going to kill me, I was not going to let it be fucking sugar nor caffeine.
Selling that underage guy that I faintly knew from art class in high school (whose name i didn’t even know) those smirnoff ices truly made me nervous, it was camera hysteria. The ever knowing, ever processing, ever recording made illegal moments forever. There really was a human eye on the other screen of the never blinking digital eye. I’d heard stories from the other cashier in the morning, chris, the shift manager who relieved me of my duties after the bulk of night when the sun would peek its shining head over the horizon, told me the security guard who supposedly constantly watched the camera called about non-threatening simple matters — he called just the other day when i caught two kids stealing, he’d been listening the entire time, making sure everything was ok. i was like bro really? what were those kids gonna do, but whatever, its good i guess—
Chris also informed me of a former employee, riley, who was the preceding shift manager, before chris himself was granted the royal honor of 1.25 more an hour, riley was currently being taken to court by the state for selling cigarettes to a minor, possibly facing up to 5 years in federal prison, along with the unbelievable fines imposed upon him.
Terrified of the charges that I felt were inevitably impending against me and terrified of being fired(I was a terrible worker, they made sure to tell me so), I was edging myself towards the precipice of quitting night after night, in a sort of purgatory, step by step, calf muscle clench and release towards my idealistic heaven of not having a time numbing 10pm to 6 am job, and instead selling pills to consenting adults or mature underage friends to sustain myself. I bought 100 xanax bars (xanax contains 2 milligrams of alprazolam- a substance of the benzodiazepine family prescribed primarily to alleviate the anxieties that one most undergo in the lacklove state of america)((dissolving all inhibitions, besides physical, physically it works as a sedative, yet mentally xanax induces an inebriation full of courage, saying and acting with no restraints of social structures)) for 250 dollars. Xanax bars currently sell for 5 dollars a pop, that’s a doubling of profit for a relatively low investment and weren’t at all difficult to push, just ask around and look at the excitement/apprehensiveness exude from their eyes, no grey area when it comes to drug users. If I could push 100 bars a week, every week, I’d make a check larger than 30 senseless thoughtless hours at circle k, plus I’d unintentionally gain some entrepreneurial skills, which in my mind, seemed much more useful than being a bottle stocker or computer. Along with the hundred xanax, I also had a friend who was prescribed vyvanse (a stimulant of the amphetamine family, lidexamfetamine 50 mg, equivalent to 30mg of amphetamine salts((adderal)) a tad more difficult to sell as it wasn’t the name brand amphetamine of choice by nervous mothers, but just mention ‘alike Adderall’ on a college campus and even the drug free will start frothing at the mouth in a study reverie frenzy) for ‘adhd’, and he had absolutely no idea the goldmine he refilled every month. So I’d buy about 15 every week off him for 40 dollars and flip them for 5 a pill. Normally acquiring that amount would be impossible, as it’s prescribed to be taken once a day, but his brother had a few months of untouched bottles, so he had a seemingly endless supply, a stimulant haven.
I naturally was acquainted with people who had an undying affinity to drugs, especially xanax. After a few days spending time with friends selling them pills before or after work, I worked up the courage to quit the mandated shitty job.
The only alternatives to humannesless for the unprivileged, is so.
teddy duncan jr/ born and raised in poinciana florida/ allen ginsberg disciple