Smashed out windows on damn near every house we walked past. Overgrown lawns that screamed vacant. Junk laying in carless driveways and graffiti scribble across the exterior wall clad.

This neighbourhood was something out of a Poverty Textbook. And I began to doubt that the smoothie glugging, neck-tat-toting mystery man had only brought us here to grab some tools for him.

We found ourselves on the doorstep of a large housing complex, its entrance shielded by a rusty metallic door cage, its windows boarded up. God knew what kind of people would dare to squat here. I guess we were going to find out.

While we stood before the caged front entrance, the man who had been leading us hid behind a power box.

He had given us simple instructions. Call out through the boarded windows for a woman named Diane, give her the groceries and bring back his tools.

Michael approached the boarded windows cautiously, and peered between a gap in the boards before calling out; “Hey Diane, we’ve got your groceries!”

Shallow footsteps began to near towards the boarded wi die from inside. Almost like wood against tile.

Suddenly lightening blue eyes peered through at us, nestled amongst crows feet and tired eye liner, “Yell it to the whole neighborhood why don’t ya?” She cursed in a whisper.

I looked over my shoulder, down the street and towards the neighbouring empty homes; “It’s just us out here Diane, no need to worry.”

“We’re one phone call from being thrown out! Now come inside!” she scorned in yet another whisper.

We heard the door beside us creak open, and so we approached the door and tried the security cage; realizing the rusted security cage was all for show and that it opened easily we made our way inside.

To our right was a staircase, to our left was a hallway, and right in front of us was a short hallway with one small wooden door at its end.

Shuffling of footsteps could be heard from the floor above, accompanied by mild chatter and clinking of glass. We decided to head up the steps but not before our world turned to black and woollen sacks were wrapped around our heads.

I punched and kicked in every direction I could. I felt one hit connect and decided to throw my weight into that general direction.

I toppled to the floor, next thing I knew the bag was being pulled off of my head and Michael was helping me up off the ground.

I looked around to find the culprits and found two weedy looking men dressed in poorly printed fake brands. One had long hair and Viking braids, the other had a missing tooth.

“Who’re you?” asked Viking braid Man.

“I was wondering the same.” I replied, raising my fists.

“We thought you were Mason.” Captain toothless, arms raised.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Who the fucks Mason?” asked Michael, clenching his knuckles.

“He’s the guy who does our grocery runs.” replied Viking braids man.

“Kidnapping doesn’t sound like something you oughta do to someone doing you a favour.” Michael replied.

The two kidnappers remained silent. Until captain toothless couldn’t hold it anymore; “He’s a murderer!”

“What?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Well, not really. He shot a guy at the base of his spine and ended up paralysing him. We can’t let him get the guns back because the victim's uncle will kill us.” answered captain toothless.

“Guns? He only sent us in to get some tools…” I continued.

“Guns are called tools on the street, Percy.” Michael muttered. “So he wanted us to come inside to get his red hot weaponry?” Michael asked further.

“Sounds like it.” Viking Braids man confirmed.

“And you still got him to get you groceries?” I questioned.

“Well, shit man, we’ve all gotta eat.” laughed captain toothless.

The braids thumped captain toothless across the head. “Look, this is just a misunderstanding, we’re sorry really sorry. How about we just call it even?” the braids began to beg.

“Call it even? That’s cute. How about you two bozos give us a ride to Mighty Tow and then we’ll call it even?” Michael requested.

The cogs turned inside the minds of the Braids and Captain toothless, “It’s funny you say that, we were just about to take our new car for a spin anyway.” Captain toothless replied.

“I didn’t see any cars parked out front?” replied Michael.

“Nah, it’s in the back.” answered the braids.

We left out of the small door at the end of the short hallway, down a garden path that led to a carport. Resting inside the carport was a beaten Mitsubishi Galant. Captain toothless hopped in the driver seat and the braids rode shotgun. Michael and I took the backseat, but that was fine by us.

Captain toothless toyed around with some wires and managed to get the car started. My mind began to replay every moment from throughout today that had led to this moment. I began to question whether or not this was a path that I ought to have taken.

I wouldn’t realise it at the moment, but as it turned out I’d left my wallet on the front doorstep of the housing complex. Complete with my 18 plus card.

It would fall into the hands of Mason; who had begun to question what was taking us so long.

I suppose that strange sensation I felt as we left and made our way towards the scrapyard was not unwarranted. I could only imagine the amount of chaos that was fit to pursue.

But without further ado, I present to you todays poem about sniffing glue, Inspired by the crackles that Michael and I encountered in the park:

Scoring The Gram (Part 1)

I’ll give ya a gram of weed for your services ghee,

Straight up bro,

Straight up ghee I’ll give you a gram of weed,

Honest,

Honest brother I’ll give you some weed for some dosh,

I never lie,

I'm a man of my word brother I’ll get you back nek week,

Gis a lazy tick ghee,

I’ll catch up with you after work and get that gram,

Only after one,

Please bro im fuckin hangin brother feeeeeigning ghee,

Hook us up,

Feel like i'm about to crawl out of my skin over here,

You gotta hook us up,

Yo cuz I heard you’re in bro are they phat?

Oh gammon bruv,

We’re all sitting here feigning and you’re sitting on an ounce,

I’d tick for you ghee I get paid tomorrow,

Fuck you’re a tight cunt aye,

Typical from you,

You would be like that,

Can see nothings changed with you,

I’d never do that to you ghee,

What about all those times I hooked you up with a sesh?

Can see you not appreciative,

Fuck you’re a amateur,

Fuck You're a gutless cunt ghee,

Don’t come round these ways ever again cuz I’ll knock your block off.

~Persay Walkway