Ok, so there was this gloooorious place called JP's Convinience Store.
It was run by some Indian man we all knew and loved by the name of JP. Why? Not because of the glorious cards we could purchase for our poor aunty in the hospital, not the coffe we could purchase if we pleased. No, there were better things to buy at JP's, namley, TABACCO PRODUCTS (cigarettes, chewing tabacco, and I believe bowls too).
I have the most glorious story about him too.
Me and my friend got totally s**t face and decided that cigarettes were a good idea. So, we went to JPs, and my friend walks up to the guy and flat out asks, DO YOU SELL CIGARETTES TO MINORS? Of course, he shook his head, because there were other people there. We sat outside, kind of upset and too drunk to go anywhere else. Suddenly, he pops his head out, and motions us inside like in some sort of crazy movie, and gets us a pack of Maverick (the most disgusting cigarettes, EVER EVER!). We smoked most the pack, and I've been a cigarette smoker since, with JP always there to help my addiction (and a variety of friends who like to pack their lungs with tar daily, and let me mooch off of them all the time).
Now, we all lived in this glorious town in such a happy, nostalgic state for quite some time, happy that our stupid little town, who lost the only thing going for it when the coooolest place to hang out ever stopped letting anyone hang out there because some jerks got too drunk (and I missed it) and ruined it for us all, and the band that everyone went for got signed to a label (Patent Pending, my bros!), and we all took happiness in the fact that we had JP.
WELL GUESS WHAT?
HE GOT CAUGHT!
scream gonk gonk stressed gonk
how much does that suck, man?
It was run by some Indian man we all knew and loved by the name of JP. Why? Not because of the glorious cards we could purchase for our poor aunty in the hospital, not the coffe we could purchase if we pleased. No, there were better things to buy at JP's, namley, TABACCO PRODUCTS (cigarettes, chewing tabacco, and I believe bowls too).
I have the most glorious story about him too.
Me and my friend got totally s**t face and decided that cigarettes were a good idea. So, we went to JPs, and my friend walks up to the guy and flat out asks, DO YOU SELL CIGARETTES TO MINORS? Of course, he shook his head, because there were other people there. We sat outside, kind of upset and too drunk to go anywhere else. Suddenly, he pops his head out, and motions us inside like in some sort of crazy movie, and gets us a pack of Maverick (the most disgusting cigarettes, EVER EVER!). We smoked most the pack, and I've been a cigarette smoker since, with JP always there to help my addiction (and a variety of friends who like to pack their lungs with tar daily, and let me mooch off of them all the time).
Now, we all lived in this glorious town in such a happy, nostalgic state for quite some time, happy that our stupid little town, who lost the only thing going for it when the coooolest place to hang out ever stopped letting anyone hang out there because some jerks got too drunk (and I missed it) and ruined it for us all, and the band that everyone went for got signed to a label (Patent Pending, my bros!), and we all took happiness in the fact that we had JP.
WELL GUESS WHAT?
HE GOT CAUGHT!
scream gonk gonk stressed gonk
how much does that suck, man?
