A friend confessed to me that he needed help selling weed. He doesn’t know many people in town who would buy it and came to me for help, offering me a cut of the profit. I was weary at first, having quit smoking the stuff myself, but decided to do it anyways. I’m only selling it to close friends so hopefully everything will be alright. He’s not offering me that much money and it’s my ass on the line if anything goes down. I just REALLY need the money.

Have you ever had a little bad thought? You know those little evil thoughts but you never really do anything about them? I seem to have them all the time. I figure I am standing on fence and I could go either way. I could be good or I could be bad. I am not sure what stops me but I am sure that I could be a serial killer any day.
I took a Chemistry Class a few years ago. In this class we used a great little chemical that everyone just thought was an indicator. It does nothing right? Wrong!

I, being a little devil, started to look into some of the chemicals that we were using and found that this great little chemical is really “a great chemical”. It is a clear, colourless, tasteless, scentless chemical. It has a great side effect; it is a laxative. Two little drops of this stuff and the person who takes it will be in the bathroom for days.

Since I like to do things where I cannot get caught, this chemical would be fun one to use. The idea that keeps jumping into my mind is to take a little bottle of this with me to a restaurant, one of those all you can eat buffets, and if I don’t like the service then drop a few little drops in each dish they have set out and watch the customers get sick and blame the restaurant. It would be great. I guess my words of wisdom to you are not to eat somewhere I do.

A while ago, I went shopping with my friend a high-end boutique downtown. My friend had been a bitch to me earlier in the day, and I was still pissed off. We got in the store and started looking around; everything was nice, and really expensive. When the clerk wasn’t looking, I slipped a pair of really expensive earrings into my friend’s purse. When we left, the alarm went off, and the clerk found the earrings in her bag. The police were called, and my friend kept crying that she didn’t know how they got in there … I got to go home, she got fingerprinted at the police station. The charges were eventually dropped, and she still thinks it was some kind of mix-up.