When he received a phone called form Jason, the tone begging and desperate, Big G agreed to meet him.
They met in Staples by the highlighters. "Jason, why do people work for Mcdonalds? Let's be honest they know what their food is doing, how addictive and dangerous for them it is. The workers gotta know their regulars and yet they serve them up. Taking the money they need, letting people make their own choices. They know it's bad and no one is making them eat it."
He looked over Jason who seemed engrossed with the coloured pens. "Look man, I'm like Mcdonalds, offering people what they want, I know it's crap but hey, that's business. But you know what's bad for business is people dying. So I start offering salads.
You are a mess, you carry on and you'll be dead. You're well dressed, hygienically clean and not a stereotypical 'junkie'. You OD and people will come looking. An investigation will be bad for my business. Trust me I'll miss your money, but it's like how I give out clean needles with the juice. I want my cash cow to live." He sighed.
The other man was looking gaunt and shaking, he had just started rehab, but he was doing it alone. "My name is George, I started dealing in college, needed the money and didn't mind taking it off yuppies. I only have 'professionals' as my clientèle. Ideally I'd be cryptozoologist. Let me help you. When you weren't strung up dancing in the sky you seemed like a decent guy. Good for a conversation and a laugh."
Jason finally looked at him "Spencer. I had always wanted to be a space cowboy."