jelyse69
Greenlighter
- Joined
- Feb 17, 2011
- Messages
- 30
I just walked into my coke dealer's house. I sent him a text half and hour ago saying I would swing by, a full-fledged text conversation regarding getting a gram preceding. I went ahead and knocked, and then let myself in. "Hello, do you have my stuff?" I asked. I hear a voice from the living room. "Come in here please". When I turn the corner, there are two cops. They're searching the house. My heart starts THUMPING.
"What's going on?" I ask innocently as possible, although I well know what the hell was happening. I give my best deer-in-headlights look. "We're doing a search" (obviously, bitch). I sit down to my dealer and pretend to be confused why there are cops. His roommates were all gathered in the living room, already caught with a bong and other paraphernalia. "I'm just here to pick up.. my coat" I improvised. "May we have some ID?" one of the cops asks me. I hand it over and they jot down a whole bunch of shit. "What does your coat look like?" a muffled voice from inside my dealer's room. This is where my dealer steps in to answer the question I couldn't. "It's a zip up". The cop handed me some hideous jacket, and I ask if I'm free to leave. They let me go, instructing me to go out the front door. I left the room, the feeling of impending doom in there was like nothing I've ever felt.
Now it's been over an hour since I left. I haven't heard from my dealer. The questions arise: Was there something I could of done to help them? If they look through his phone, will I be in trouble? I'm very rattled by it. I feel sad and 'I told you so', but I can't say I told you so as long as I'm being the devil's advocate......
"What's going on?" I ask innocently as possible, although I well know what the hell was happening. I give my best deer-in-headlights look. "We're doing a search" (obviously, bitch). I sit down to my dealer and pretend to be confused why there are cops. His roommates were all gathered in the living room, already caught with a bong and other paraphernalia. "I'm just here to pick up.. my coat" I improvised. "May we have some ID?" one of the cops asks me. I hand it over and they jot down a whole bunch of shit. "What does your coat look like?" a muffled voice from inside my dealer's room. This is where my dealer steps in to answer the question I couldn't. "It's a zip up". The cop handed me some hideous jacket, and I ask if I'm free to leave. They let me go, instructing me to go out the front door. I left the room, the feeling of impending doom in there was like nothing I've ever felt.
Now it's been over an hour since I left. I haven't heard from my dealer. The questions arise: Was there something I could of done to help them? If they look through his phone, will I be in trouble? I'm very rattled by it. I feel sad and 'I told you so', but I can't say I told you so as long as I'm being the devil's advocate......

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