Crumbs

 

William was right. We really needed something to dilute the intoxicants running through our system. The fact that I had enough weed to send me to prison was bracing enough to sober me up a tad. Kim, on the other hand, was close to nodding out completely.

         "We need to get some food in you, Kim"

         "Etts go thee kruns" Valium speak for "Let's go see Crumbs". 

          Crumbs was a mutual friend of ours who worked at the Knife and Fork. The Knife and Fork was the combination of a traditional northern U.S. diner, and a traditional southern U.S. meat-and-three joint. Blending these two traditional food-service styles, so alike yet so light years apart, could only be accomplished by the two owners, man and wife, from Watertown, MA and Selma, AL respectively. There acceptance of one another's differences were matched only by their ability to accept Crumbs.

                Keith Allen Walker was his christian-name, but I am pretty sure not one of his friends could tell you that. Crumbs was the moniker given to him in junior high and it became his deep and inscrutable name. Some say that it was due to his habit of taking the last of your dessert or whatever "crumbs" were left over. Others referenced his dandruff and considered that explanation enough. No one is really sure who it was that even first coined the name, but Crumbs it was.

        "Dude, what's she on?" 

        "V's and s****y beer." I reply, and realize that Crumbs is about to live up to one possible explanation to his name.

        "Got any left over?"

        "No man, Kim got a little happy with them and decided to Skoal a few" Skoal was a smokeless tobacco or "dip" popular anywhere rednecks call home. You place a pinch between your cheek and gum and suck and spit to your hearts desire. Valium had a sweet component compared to most pills so it became popular to place several between your cheek and gum and suck them for a slow release of the drug. This was referred to as Skoaling.

        "Bummer....I'll get some coffee." Crumbs actually talked like this. His language was a mix of new age stoner, old world hippy, and California surfer dude (even though he had never been west of the Mississippi). 

        "Kim, honey, you have to straighten up" Too many times she had taken care of me as I grew my tolerance and understanding of my limits when we first met. I could not get frustrated at her occasional discrepancy. 

        "I knee sum fugen ekks" ....."I need some f*****g eggs" for those of you not catching on.

        When Crumbs came back with the two steaming cups, I placed both of our orders. What I ordered was a breakfast that could have fed four lumberjacks. He seemed to see that I didn't flinch at ordering what could be a pretty pricey meal.

        "Damn dude, you must have gotten the stash. You're ordering up like a bro' whose numbers hit"

        "Yep, out in the car. Surprised you can't smell it from here."

        "Far out...some really hairy-scary s**t. Can't wait to score some". This is not exaggeration. This is actually how the guy spoke.

        When the food arrived, the coffee was already making some minimal improvements on Kim.

        "Pass me thu keshuc" Speech was improving slightly. Good sign. 

        As Kim's system was now introducing the s**t-faced-blocking effects of caffeine, grease, and starch the conversation went to what our plans were for our newly acquired product. We needed baggies and scales. We also needed a place to spread out. Kim's place was suggested, as my apartment was so compact that the smell of this truly wicked bud would easily waft through the entire complex. Crumbs has a set of scales we could borrow. We could get the baggies at the "s****y-Kroner's". 

        The "s****y-Kroner's".........This was the worst location of an otherwise lovely regional supermarket super-chain. At this particular Kroner's you could buy all of the normal things in any of the other Kroner's, with just a few slight differences. The meat case had a higher level of low-end cuts and the pork and chicken sections were much larger than the beef section. The soda aisle had a higher level of generic sodas vs. the national brands, and there was the presence of fruit-themed sodas that seemed to cater to the ethnic shopper not present in the suburban Kroner's. Also, the overhead announcements were done, by a manager, in deep ebonics. 

        This created a sense similar to the feeling experienced in the Miami Airport. At the Miami International Airport overhead announcements are done in Spanish first, then in English but with an accent as thick as Cuban coffee. 

        All of these things were nothing compared to the primary difference at the "s****y-Kroner's" and that difference was their parking lot. It was an absolute war zone. In the past three years there were three separate murders, four muggings (two at gunpoint, one at knifepoint, and one at the end of a portable blow-torch), and car break-ins that were no longer even being counted. All sorts of injuries, contusions and wounds were suffered amidst the yellow-lined parking spots. The funniest injury was actually to a would be attacker. He just so happened to try to rob the wrong girl from the wrong side of town. The fact that this would be victim was a Lesbian did not require her to be stereotypically butch or necessarily a cat owner. She was, however, stereotypically both. So as she left the store with two triple-bagged plastic bags of canned cat food, she was armed with a very effective mugger detterent. Those who witnessed this encounter described it in epic and hilarious proportions. 

        But never, and I repeat never, would any thief dare an armed robbery of the Kroner's itself. Within the walls of this supermarket worked the toughest group of people ever to don a yellow apron (a signature Kroner's touch). Even though this group was united by a job that they sometimes hated, the unification of this group of people created an army larger in size, and often better armed, than the local National Guard. 

                "What abow a brann?" ...I was lost on this translation.

                "A fugin b-r-a-n-d" Kim said wrapping her mouth around the last word with heavy intent. "Sumthin tha shets us aparf.....a brand.......like McGonnel's"

        Maybe her current level of intoxication was creating linguistic issues, but it was definitely helping her imagination. She stumbled through the words but basically explained how we could set ourselves apart from every lower level dealer out there. The ones that were selling s**t-weed were never a big concern, but how do you compete with the other group that is also selling Denny's wonder-bud? 

        As we pulled up to Crumbs' house (actually he lived with his mom, as though anything else could have been expected) he was playing air-drums to what was most likely either the Dead Kennedy's or the Butthole Surfer's playing on his Walkman. Crumbs was missing out on the birth of a truly genius idea. In all fairness he had a habit of not being much a part of the reality around him, even when his headphones were off. 

        "A f****n brand, Strike......Strike is it." My puzzled look let her know her master plan needed further definition.

        "We get my cousin with the computer to print out a s**t-load of labels that we stick on the baggies. Strike is the brand name we use. We create a buzz, no pun intended baby, with our clients and all of their friends. Everybody can get weed, smoke, herb, etc, etc. But only a few can get Strike. It's genius, if I can say so myself". I was happy to see the fresh air coupled with the  spark of creative marketing genius was bringing Kim back from the kingdom of Prince Valium. 

        "You think it's a good idea to print my nick-name on it?" The drug world had it's secret handshakes and anonymity. Putting your name on a baggie of illegal drugs seemed to ask for trouble.

        "Don't be a p***y Wesley....this is a great f*****g idea". Whenever Kim called me Wesley and p***y in the same breath they were redundant to her. 

        "OK babe, so Strike it is. 

        "Strike has been his nick-name forever man....duuh. You guy's want to come in and break into my mom's liquor cabinet?" F*****g Crumbs. You can't not love the guy.