I stepped for the first time on the airline for a one-way ticket to Las Vegas. Per usual, I struck up a few dollars here and there to buy the ticket on over, following up on the daily hustle.

The plan was to move some grass to Detroit and my guy pointed out that the grass was cheap on this side of the states. As a kid who kicked it in New York, when someone tells you about the opportunity to earn a good chunk of dough, you take it.

He did say that he didn't know how long this opportunity was going to last, but god damn man, who would have known that flights ain't an easy thing to catch around these parts. Besides, the money I would get from the back and forth trips between Detroit and Vegas wasn't going to cut it. I could have kept on making little dimes here and there shuffling on the streets of New York, eventually earning a bigger piece of the pie, but nope. Gotta have big ideas and jump the gun.

Anyways, I was shocked to come to Vegas and have this guy offer me some grass for a solid deal. At least, that's what I thought, coming from the big apple where grass was hundreds of dollars and this guy offered a fraction of the cost. Anyways, I obviously take him up on the offer and buy it instantly, and to my misfortune, I notice that everywhere else in the city sells it cheaper.

Bah, now, out of pride, I refuse to sell this grass for any cheaper than what I got it for, and I'm stuck in Vegas till the next flight rolls on through. Tough luck.

Anyways, if you read this so far, think smart okay? Or at least, ask around. Those coppers ain't so good for you unless they directly in your pockets.

I've been in town for a few hours and I think I got the hang of how things go. There are a lot of shifty price changes and I swear to god these coppers are getting fat with all my gifts. Every time I drop off that heavy envelope, I feel as if my heart breaks a little bit. Anyways, I hate the Strip these days because it reminds me of that terrible deal I did with the grass. Yeah, I gave up and undersold it for a dollar on the unit, but the price shot back up to the hundreds.

Gosh dang, should have been more patient but that's just a tough lesson. I've made some good dough passing off blow, but sometimes, I wish I knew more associates to get into the producing side of things. One day I'll have my own shop, because god damn, it's becoming way too expensive snorting blow at the tables.

Yeah, its Vegas, you expect me not to gamble? It's a shame because I had hoped to meet a pretty gal around these parts, but all I've seen is a bunch of hopped up freaks or half-dead stoners. Well, the tables are entertaining enough.

Another day, another grind. I decided to go back to my family's more familiar routes in Chicago. Took another bloody expensive flight across the country, except at least this time, I came prepared. I swooped on a sweet deal on some gourmet mushrooms and I earned a pretty dollar to pay for the flight over.

My Vegas habits hit hard though, and I decided to move away from the city ultimately because I had gambled away the small fortune I was able to hustle up. God, was dumb, but sometimes, the frustration just gets to your head and you decide to bet $200,000 and end up with 16. For those of you that don't play blackjack, 16 is the cut-off point of whether you hit or stand, and the dealer had a Jack looking down on me. So there was no way the dealer was going to bust and so, I hit that baby and fuck, I went bust and lost the those stacks I just spent the prior day making.

Oh well, at least my boss took a little pity on me an doled out some bonuses in advance for my good work setting up connections and in-roads in Vegas, I made some good friends but its now time to come b ack home.

Home is definitely the place to be. Yeah, all those bribes to the local copper were a bit wasted in Vegas, but I can always fly back. They better not forgive all the money they swallowed.

I have been trading extensively through the streets of Chicago, making new friends and associates. While Chicago ain't as snazzy as the bright lights of Vegas, they definitely had a much more suburban and homely feel. But the women are more or less the same as before. Real not so attractive broads. At least in Vegas they dressed up and were proper--at least they did their best to try to blend into high society as best they could with their rented dresses and fake jewels. Here, they kept it too real and preferred to dress in common clothes. But honestly, they were scary individuals who stood toe to toe with the toughest dealers and thugs I encountered before. So that was a shock.

Not that it really matters to me, it's all about the money. You got cheap blow? Great. You willing to buy expensive blow? Great. I don't give any fucks about who you are.

Anyways, back on the grind, I thank my one anonymous tipper. I promise to try my best to stay away from the tables...Not like there are any pretty girls to look at. I miss New York in that aspect.

Man, grave robbing is hard work. My boss told me to just suck it up and pay the undertaker 20 big ones to just get the info easily. But god damn it, there had to be a way to get the info.

So, I crawl through the Obits and look through the cemetery for each and every name. It takes a few hours to find a grave that hasn't already been desecrated which is surprising, since most of the time, they got like $500 in stuff worth selling. A cheap tuxedo and some baubles often. Real boring. Real not worth it.

But I hear that I'll get lucky one day for a nice surprise, so I look forward to the day where I hit the jackpot. Not that rigged lottery. I don't trust anyone who tells me that the odds are in my favor, the whole business is about having odds in the house favor. Like tell my whole losing streak.