>>507427069 (OP)I met Jordan B at a bar one night in DC back around the time he was first getting into harder drugs. He was sitting, slumped back in a booth by himself, looking at his own reflection in the widow, when I first noticed him. As I went closer to get a better look, he turned his head and started glaring at me. The look on his face set me aback. I knew at once that it was my hero JBP, but also that something was not right about him. I moved to greet to him, but he lifted his right index finger over his lips and used his left index finger to signal me to sit down in the seat across from him. This dude seemed cool, but as I slid into the booth and got a better look at him, I realized that he stunk of liquor and he looked liked he was munted on benzos. His clothes were covered with what appeared to be dried mud, and there was a half-smoked cigarette tucked behind his left ear. His knuckles were cracked and bloody, and his hair and skin glistened with grease and filth. As I processed all of this information, I gazed back into him, and slumped back into my seat to mirror his posture.
>Got any meth?He asked.
>No. I can get you some of my sister's adderal though, I replied.
>Fuck that pharmaceutical bullshit, I'm just going to get an 8 ball. Dostokovesky wrote that the yayo helped him transcend the material planeHe rambled. Noticing the kabbalah bracelet that he was wearing, I decided to change the subject.
>So how about these fucking jews! I yelled.
Hearing this, JBP's cool demeanor turned square real fast and he popped up from the booth, and put his hands behind his head as he walked around in circles, surveying the surrounding bar area for eavesdroppers.
>Fucking Christ. You almost gave me a fucking heart attack, you evil coward. I've sullied myself, for the love of Christ, you troll demon. Get out of here.We parted then in silence.