2019 04 24: Mr. Garrison

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I felt intimidated, but I tried to look like I wasn't, even though he could see right through me.

"Feeling intimidated?" He asked me, without needing an answer."

Fuck.

"No." I said.

"Yes, you are" he insisted. "Its funny," he chuckled, "how you intended for me to feel intimidated, but its the other way around."

I kept looking at him. He somehow took control.

"Look, I honestly don't care who Tyler puts his dick in." He thought about it for a second, "Or the other way around - whatever, it doesn't matter. But we rely on a lot of terrible people to do our business.

I looked confused, he decided to explain: "Okay, drugs and other contraband have to come from somewhere, there's the producers, the transporters, and the sellers. In the majority of America, we're the transporters. However, there's still a lot of entities that control local supply. Those people are typically racist homophobic dipshits that funnel drugs to minority communities in order to vilify them."

"...Oka-"

"We're actually trying to stop that by bleeding them dry financially until they drop out and then arresting them by using your family's financial leverage."

"...Okay." I said.

He caught his breath to calm down. "look, you probably want to shoot me right now, which is fine. We all have issues, yours is anger, and mine is rudely walking away during conversations in order to deprecate someone."

"What?" I said. What does..." He walked away around the corner of the building. "Oh..." I realized.