So it was the summer of... God knows when.
"Hey. Kid. You want some of the good stuff?" Ryan fucking Ross heard a voice behind him. Ryan was just trying to piss in peace when this fucking whatever voice asks the weirdest shit.
He turned around, zipping his Paw Patrol pants up. "Sorry, mommy said that's no good and I shouldn't talk to strangers.... Also why in the quarantine wings are you hanging out in a school bathroom. 💀" Ryan said, puffing on his comically sized lollipop as he adjusted his goofy ass chimney cleaner looking hat and scarf.
"Listen kid..." Dallon started, pulling out his gu— knife. "wait did you just say the motherfucking skull emoji? How do you even—?"
"DALLON. JAMES. WEEKES." Jon chimed in. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THREATENING KIDS WITH KNIVES. DON'T THREATEN KIDS WITH KNIVES."
"Dude he's literally five years younger than me, he's not a kid and it doesn't even matter."
"...Didn't you just call me kid though?"
"SHUT UP." The bassists looked back at him and screamed in unision.
"Ahem anyways, sO YOU'RE SAYING AGE DOESN'T MATTER???" "WHAT THE FUCK NO—"
And as the two "dealers" continued yelling, Ryan just stared there, licking at his lollipop.
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Picture above made by my friend fruityweekez.
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Panic! At The Weed Dealership
FanfictionIn which Jon Walker and Dallon Weekes start a drug business, as if Brendon could get even higher than his hopes. Inspired by a joke made by @fruityweekez and me. [I just want you to know, as of 4/4/2023, I don't support Dallon Weekes. He has literal...
