Confessions of a Pusher

The drug world has titles for everybody.  Lords, kingpins, barons, mules, authors, candymen, dealers, hawkers, gophers. Me…I’m a pusher.  I get people hooked.

I never started out to be a pusher.  During college, I went to study abroad in Europe and when my new roommate passed me her finest South America green I couldn’t resist.  At first, it was just a social thing.  We’d pass it around the table for everybody to enjoy.  Pretty soon, I began using even when I was alone.  I daydreamed during class.  As soon as I went home, I’d spark the fire.  Before long, I brought it to school with me.  In between classes I’d invite friends over to the coffee shop to get our fix.  They asked me where they could get some.  I couldn’t help but share my enthusiasm.  I’d set them up with a starter kit and a few weeks supply, enough to really get started.

I never sold anything.  My work is out of love, not money.  Like I said, I’m not a dealer, I’m a pusher.  I introduce people to a world they’ve never experienced.  And I’m good at it.  Again and again, somebody new approaches me and asks what I’m holding.

You see how much I enjoy it and how great it makes me feel.  It draws you in.  You eye me conspicuously, casting judgement, but I can see the curiousity in your gaze.  You wonder if you can get the same feeling.  Don’t be afraid. Come. Sit.  Join the circle.  When I pass it to you, take a long smooth pull.  Take a deep breathe, and enjoy.  It just might change your life.