Bad Crack

Gonna get Black Pete. Sumbitch sold me bad crack. Put me in the hospital for a week. Well, I'm not standing for that.

It's like I was telling my friend Joey. I get my crack from lots of different dealers: Roy D, X Mo, Hallie B, and others, but Black Pete's the only one that sold me bad stuff.

"You sure it's his fault?" asks Joey.

"Well, of course, it's his fault!" I snap back. "Yeah, he said he was sorry, and he whined about how it's getting harder to find good coke, and he promises it'll never happen again, but how can I trust him now?"

"Um, how can you trust any of them?" asks Joey.

"Because none of the others have ever sold me bad crack," I answer logically. "Just Black Pete."

"But he hadn't sold you bad crack either," argues Joey. "Until he did. Tomorrow, it could be X Mo."

"Impossible!" I retort. "He never has."

"But neither had Black Pete," says Joey, annoyingly repeating himself. "I think you're missing a crucial point here."

"Which is?" I prompt patiently.

"It's crack," he says. "It's all crack. It's all poison. If you keep doing that stuff, it's going to kill you, no matter who you buy it from."

"Na," I reply. "That's crazy talk."