Michael Clifford was the guy on the streets that you would pass in your car and take a second look at. He would make it seem as if he wanted you to come out of the car and fuck him right then and there. He wore big ripped t-shirts and black jeans with old boots that you would find in the dump.
You'd think he'd smell of garbage and shit, but he smelled the opposite of. If you passed him in the street you could smell his musky-ness, and his manliness.
And in the streets, he waited and waited until he could get his hands on any type of girl that passed him, willingly to have intercourse. And of course, they're payed. Where does he get the money? Drugs.
Michael 'brews' his own drugs up. Mixing whatever he has leftover of other drugs, and making them into a powder. Each bag is different, mixing different drugs, a different high each time. And people love it, and him.
Michaels passion goes into making these drugs. And he says if your not satisfied with the drugs, he'll make you satisfied.
Michael is known as the pain killer. He will kill any emotional pain you have. And it's not only him, it's his concoctions also.
But the thing about these drugs are, you become addicted, like most. But these drugs will make you feel a way you've never felt before and a way you've never even dreamed about feeling. But you like it. You'll go places you never thought about going to, and never realized how badly you wanted it.
But, you never thought you'd feel the same way about the dealer.
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Pain Killer// m.c.
FanfictionMichael Clifford is a drug dealer in the streets of inglewood california. he's known as the pain killer, because people come to him when they want to kill their pain, and that's exactly what he does.
