LSD

CHAPTER THREE

A five foot at least four stone lanky as hell guy, more like a kid really lanky. Thats all I could honestly think lanky with so so much hair and make up all hood and black.

And boy oh boy wasn't he pissed off, fucks his problem hell was he even doing here.

''well.'' he spoke with a deep voice way too deep for his suck young and obvious age.

With an attitude that would feel right at home on a teen bitches face, pretty much all he was really just a teen bitch.

He said 'well' as if I was meant to know what the fuck he was on about.

I just shrugged confused as ever.

''well what.'' I asked.

'well ha.'' he scoffed. ''you gonna invite me in or you purposely wanting your neighbours to watch, to see.'' he asked, walking up the stairs . ''or is that just how you get off.''

he pushed passed me and headed into the living room. Hell did this freak'o mean 'how I get off' then I put one and one together and came up with the equation that he must be the runner, my god do young.

''walk straight in why don't you.'' I sighed closing the door behind us and heading to where he was sprawled pretty much across the black and red leather three-P-sweet.

With his legs up all casual like, wouldn't have minded but the boots he had on were huge surprised he could even walk in them, then again he needed something to anchor him down in weather like tonight. But believe me, one snag on that god damn sofa and he was out.

''comfy.'' I snapped taking the small neatly folded notes out of my pocket and handing them over.

''extremely.'' he snapped straight back, his deep kinda old English snobby voice, sounded off. He tried to take the money as casual as ever.

But me, I held on to it, I had to at least pretend to know what I was doing, pretend to know what the hell was going on. I mean ha, if the guys from back in the day could see me now, id be a frigging laughing stock.

There was once a time when I could get on any bus going anywhere at any time, and know plenty of people who knew me, and could easily pick up anything, be guaranteed to score and not just drugs but sex too.

''err, what.'' he looked right down his nose at me.

''I wanna see what I'm buying before I pay.'' act the part come on Adam, act the part.

''you wont be disappointed.'' he sighed.

I might not be, but he sure looked like he was.

I, I didn't really wanna look in his eyes, he looked so sad.

''so err.'' I said trying to drum up some sort of conversation. ''where you from.''

''around.'' he bluntly snapped.

''how old are you.''

''old enough to be selling what ever your wanting to buy OK so... don't worry about it.''

he, I don't know, he spoke as if he was selling his soul for a quid, no worse a penny.

''so you err, been in this buisness long or...''

''what's it to you.'' he snapped once more and just huffed. ''so, we gonna do this thing or what, you gonna sit down.''

''err ye sure whatever.'' kinda confused right now, I mean he was pretty pushy and a little pissy for a runner, I took a seat.

''your err pretty much a snappy little bitch for a runner ain't you.'' I remarked as he began to look at the things on the wall and on the shelf's.

''I'm not.'' he said grimly.

''not what.'' I asked.

''this doctors degree, it's a fake right.'' he asked taking it off the shelf.

''err no, no I worked 8 straight years for that.'' I said standing up taking it from his hands dusting it off and putting it straight back up on the shelf. It looked so cheap and tacky in his long thin bony little black painted nailed hands.

Why do boys, and men do that to them selves I mean there obviously men but try so hard, try there damnedest to look like women, why do that, what an odd concept.

He came and stood in front of me, so uncomfortable, so uneasy so unable to look me in the eyes, like he for some reason disagreed with what I was doing against what he was his self selling.

''I'm not a runner.'' he spoke very dullely.

''what are you then, and why are you here, what are you doing here.'' But him, this obviously underage guy, he was way way too busy. Busy doing what, trying to take off my belt.