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Wiretap-One-Shots: AK Seeking Lucy

*These are real events local to Phoenix, only names have been changed to protect the storyteller.

“It was a hot summer, 2013, and stock had run dry, so we had to make a run. People know me as AK, mostly because AK-47 is my favorite strain, less to do with using a tool.” A tall, sharp individual, AK looks like any young man in his twenties, he explains that in the early teens of the 2000’s, he was the guy you saw for weed or a hit of LSD. “I did it since I was middle school, 2000 and beyond. My brother smoked and his friend used to be the plug.” He pulls out a quarter pound from under his bed, it is clearly not from a dispensary. He opens it for me, and tells me it is some Jungle Boys Exotic out of Cali. “All gas, that’s what I’ve always bought and sold, so I look out for the best. That means to find it, I have to plan so I don’t tap out, but I had to learn about that when I was young.” The weed is premium, with smells of socks, mustard, and berries; I’m told that for the pack these days, it was about $550.

In Tempe, around 2013, AK lived near the 101 and ASU campus where he served between 20 to 30 people, deliveries of cannabis or hits of LSD. “I would go through a quarter pound, what we called a QP about once a week.” He says with pride. “It was the wild west still, so you had to take an occasional chance when your supplier got popped or went dry. That’s what happened when I was linked up with Shoes.” “Shoes” was a man who was deceptively young in appearance but was in his late 30’s when selling to AK. “I linked up with Shoes, he was this old dude who still looked like a frat kid and sold to ASU kids. He worked valet, and rode a motorcycle that got him tapped into some of the biker gangs in the region.” AK went to Mr. Shoes to see about a quarter pound, but Shoes couldn’t do it. He only had a QP himself, so we smoked and talked about possible sources.

AK tells me “Shoes bought wholesale, ten pounds at a time usually, so I put some money down on the next shipment. My problem was that over those next two weeks waiting, I had people to make serves to, then and there! I told Shoes, and he sent me to his friend’s younger brother “Cal”. I got his number, dipped out from Shoe’s place, and called Cal when I got home.” AK is smart and patient, so he comes across as someone unafraid to deal with anyone over “work”. “I couldn’t understand this guy Cal, he was some lanky blonde cuss out of Florida. His accent and a knock off grill made him hard to understand.” AK speaking in code at the time, got pricing for a QP, and a sheet of acid. He decided Cal was worth the time, and set up a time to meet him. He had his friend drive him to Deer Valley and 15th Street to a house that looked rough compared to the rest of the neighborhood.

“I dialed his number, and waited outside; then two scrawny dudes came out to walk us in. Both were holding pistols in their waistbands, and they checked us on the way in. It wasn’t my style or good business, so I took a leap of faith and left my strap at home. My homie was nervous, shaking, sweaty, and talking like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo.” AK says laughing. Everyone walked into the house after they were frisked in the gated entry-way that was clearly used to check those who entered. It was here that they both met “Cal”, a baby, barely in his late teens smoking a blunt roach while talking about his hero, Riff-Raff. “Cal was alright but he had crazy eyes,” AK tells me “He had pink parachute pants, and shit tattoos all over his chest and back.” This young dealer greeted them with a strong accent through a cheap imitation mouth grill while picking a roach out of a vase deemed “Tha Boneyard” with masking tape.

“I stepped up, shook hands, and asked about what we had discussed. He passed me the blunt and as groddy as it was, I took a hit.” AK remembers. Cal smiled and went to the pantry where he was clearly pulling stock for AK. He returned with a large glass jar of Purple Ape, an indica heavy purple strain sought after for its color on the street. He was also carrying a large ziplock with a 15x15in. sheet of paper inside that was adorned with characters from Digimon. “I smiled because he told me his stock and it was just what I had ordered. This QP at the time was $750 because it was private stock but I knew it would make money, and a sheet of 500 for $250 was impossible to beat.” AK took out his knot of cash and handed it to Cal, who passed him an opened jar to smell and inspect. AK began to show his friend the weed, and Cal began counting the cash out with an ear to ear smile. It slowly left his face, and AK tells me that Cal started to rub his eyes in frustration.

AK tells me “I asked straight up if there was a problem, and he said nah but can I get the rest of the cash?” AK asked Cal “The rest of the cash? We made a deal for a QP at $750 and a sheet for $250.” At this time Cal grew impatient and lashed out by pulling his piece from his waist and putting it in AK’s face. Cal, demanding to know if AK was a cop, had his guys looking out the front windows in case this was a raid. “I figured out what happened and yelled WAIT!” and this got everyone’s attention right away. Cal regained his composure and approached AK with an attitude about the situation demanding to know what was happening. AK explains “I misunderstood you, you are hard to hear bro, and over the phone was almost impossible. I heard the price on the QP but I messed up the price on the Lucy; I thought you said sheets for $250 but you told me six for fifty, right?” A huge bejeweled smile washed over Cal who started laughing with his boys.

“He wasn’t mad, and laughed the whole thing off. We worked out a new deal, something like ten hits for $90? I rolled a blunt, and we joked about his mumbling. He pulled his gun out with a serious look only to break out laughing and commenting how he could rob us,” AK laughs about the good time and tells me that he learned “Cal’s nickname was short for Calzone, born from a love of calzones.” They wrapped up business, letting AK and his friend walk away with their product. “I knew my homie was freaked out; he was dripping sweat even though the house was 72 degrees.” He told me “he got a text and had to go to work right then, and that I couldn’t get a ride back home.” AK said he shrugged it off and placed everything in his bag then he began walking to the bus stop. “I stopped at Circle K, and told them I needed to fill my bag with ice or my school project would ruin. The clerk gave me a garbage bag and I bought my bus pass, a drink, and a bag of ice.” AK without fear began to empty his bag, and fill the garbage bag with ice to load into it, his QP and acid sitting on the trash can at Circle K.

He tells me he did this, and while he did, took a couple of nugs along with two tabs from his stuff. “I said fuck it, I took both hits and rolled a few blunts for the journey home. It got trippy when I was around University in Tempe; I was on the bus sitting in the back of the bus, laughing at a mom who had her twin kids playing.” He stumbled off that bus with his wares, and told me about how he survived the next two weeks on it. AK never had to do business with Calzone again, but he tells me that he wonders how Cal might’ve made it. “You run into all kinds of characters in this game, I just push peace and keep moving. I dunno what happened to Calzone, but best of luck to him. I hope I never have to reach into his ashtray vase again!” AK rolls a blunt and says it has gotten easier to find good weed in California or Nevada. He tells me he loves the plant, it helps people, and he isn’t afraid of going to jail over it. “I’ll be doing this forever, not even for the money, but for me when I’m old and really need it!”

Adrian Ryan was born in New Mexico and attended school since elementary in Arizona, his time growing up split between the two states. He hopes to work towards recreational cannabis, enjoys reading, writing, film, music, and also writing music.



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