Neighborhood Produce Dealer
Allow me to set the scene for you. I am on my way to Wendy’s for lunch waiting at a crosswalk for the light change. Directly across the street is the State Liquor Store and Wendy’s is just down the block form there. I am not alone. Waiting with me are two other fellow pedestrians. We are all silent and waiting, though one of our company — the Produce Dealer — has tried to engage each of us with small talk.
Let me describe our friendly, neighborhood Produce Dealer for you. He is, as the police would describe him, a young, white male with blond dreadlocks tied up under his bandana. He has a scraggly beard and generally looks like your stereotypical hippy, surfer dude.
We have been waiting for what seems like a very long time for the light to change. Suddenly the Produce Dealer asks, “hey? Do you guys need any mushrooms?” Now, I must admit that for a fraction of a second I entertained the possiblity that he was just a Produce Dealer who specializes in Portobella or Shitake mushrooms, but that didn’t last long. Once I realized what he was really offering I declined and started off across the street (the light had blessedly changed at that moment). First time I have ever been offered drugs in my life.