Sticky Fingers

1996

-Playground-

Here he comes. That silly smile on his face tells me he's got something stupid on his mind. Wounder why he didn't just tell me what he wanted to tell me in class. I would try to guess, but with Sergey...anything is possible. Like a month ago he stole that Lada. Operantly if the keys are in the car, it begs to be taken. Honking out side my window. I knew right away that shit was stolen. Aside from being too young and too poor, Sergey got sticky fingers. What did he get his hands on now?

"Hey man, follow me!"

As we walk towards the abandoned kinder garden I see he is pulling out a match box. Shaking it in front of my face, but not saying a word. Asshole. Whats in it? Gun powder? That could be fun.

"Whats in the box?"

"...marijuanka"

Bull shit! No way...oh shit it is. How the hell did he get his hands on it? Sneaky bastard. He probably doesn't even know how to smoke it. The only thing that me and him tried was cigarettes...and I almost choked to death. Those things were fucking disgusting. Not to mention the hell my mother gave me when she smelled them on me. This should be fun...