It seems like the government is
finding new things to ban every day. Some of them are banned because
they are more harmful than good to the human body, regardless of how
they make that same body feel. Other things are banned “for the
public's own good,” whether it's any good or not.
Regardless of why something is
banned, people will find a way to satisfy their desire for it. Even
if it something they didn't have such an extreme need for when it was
easily and legally obtained.
There is more garbage on the worn
pavement than in the cans and dumpsters that line the alley.
Numerous fixtures extend over beaten doors, but only one currently
emits any light. Two dark figures stand in the weak glow. The
shadows around them merging with the night above.
One figure is hunched inside their
coat. Their hands moving nervously inside the deep pockets. Head
down and shoulders hunched, she appears to want to avoid being
noticed by the only other living soul in this ill-reputed area of
town. While she is no stranger here, this place makes her nervous
and afraid. It is only her strong desire, her almost physical need,
for what can be acquired here that would drag her down to such a
neighborhood.
The second figure is full of
confidence. He stands straight and proud. This is his area. The
scum that reside on these streets are his people. The businesses
that operate here, legal and otherwise, do so at his leisure. He
doesn't just live here, he is an absolute king. So much so that even
the snobs from the richer parts of town seek him out in order to
satisfy themselves.
“Welcome back my dear. You have
returned sooner than I expected. I figured my last 'shipment' to you
would have lasted you at least another two weeks.”
A look of concern crosses the otherwise
happy face of the man. “You haven't been sharing my product with
anyone else, have you? You know that is against the rules. If the
wrong people found out about my little side business, you would be
cut off from your supply forever.”
The huddled woman shakes her head
vigorously, her voice shaky with nerves and fear, “No! I haven't
shared with anyone else. I haven't told anyone else. I just had a
few unexpected.....rough days. It took more than usual to calm me
down. That's all. No risk to you.”
She stands a little straighter and her
words lose most of their timbre. “Besides, I would lose more than
my source if you were discovered. I would lose my entire
inheritance. I would lose my very livelihood. A conviction, even
for mere possession would make me a pariah in my social circles. You
would just serve your time and come back to your operations, the same
as before. Time behind bars might even get you a few new customers.
I would be completely ruined. If either of us has to worry about the
consequences of the authorities find out, it's me.”
The man waves his hand and nods in
understanding. “Settle down, settle down. It just seemed a little
unusual, that's all. In my experience, unusual is not generally a
good thing. It causes me concern and I don't like to be concerned.”
He pulls out a small notebook and
extracts a pencil from the metal spiral binding the pages. “Now,
let's get down to business. What is it you would like today?”
The woman gives a nod and starts
considering her request. “I want the good stuff. The stuff direct
from South America. Don't you dare try to pawn any of that weak crap
from Pennsylvania either. I'd rather eat mud than even touch that
junk.”
He makes a few quick scratches in his
notebook and looks her in the eye. “South America, eh? That isn't
going to be cheap. It's getting harder to move product across some
of the borders involved. It's actually easier to get stuff from
parts of Europe or even Israel these days. Are you sure you wouldn't
want some from there?”
“Expense doesn't matter. You know I
can afford anything. Europe's stuff is decent, but they cut it with
too much other stuff. It's still good product, but I want more
purity. I want it direct from the source. I want it from South
America. Colombia, Brazil, where they know what they are doing.”
A couple more notes are made on paper.
“Fine. Suit yourself. South American it is. Delivery should be
in about a month and a half.”
“A month and half? I can't wait that
long. I need some now! I ran out yesterday and I can barely hold on
as it is.”
“Hey, you want the good stuff, it
takes time. I already told you borders are getting harder and harder
to cross. Part of the trip will have to be made by cruise ship and
that takes two weeks just to arrange. If you want anything quicker,
I have a few samples on me. A couple of manufacturers you haven't
tried yet. However, these will have to do you for now. The only
other thing I have on hand is the 'Pennsylvania mud' you despise so
much.”
Her hands fly out of her pockets and
shake as she extends them to him. “Oh yes, please. Give me some.
I need something now. Then I promise not to bother you again until
the shipment arrives.”
He reaches behind his back and draws
forth a thick pouch with a zipper holding the top closed. One hand
holds the pouch by the bottom while the other slowly opens the
zipper. The sounds of the the metallic teeth being separated echoing
off the brick walls lining the narrow space. Once the zipper pull
finally reaches the end, he slides his hand in and pulls out an array
of small baggies. Each one contains a few ounces of the precious
substance the woman has come to purchase.
He starts to extend the handful of
baggies towards the woman, but quickly yanks them back, the plastic
mere milimeters from her touch. “Don't get too excited now. We
still have to discuss payment. Your usual amount, this time from
South America. Plus these sample to tide you over. That should come
to about three thousand, five hundred dollars total.”
The woman's face becomes contorted as
she is obviously at war with herself. The price is more than she is
expecting. She can still easily afford it, but it is considerably
more than her usual amount. Hiding an expense that large won't be
easy. Her desire for what he is dangling before her eyes is enough
to inspire an idea.
She reaches back into her own pockets
and withdraws three pieces of plastic. “Here, here you go. You
can take what you want from my credit cards. I can say I made some
random rash purchases. Nobody will look into that.”
He shakes his head as he begins to
replace the baggies inside the pouch. “No can do my dear. I'm not
your corner clothing store. I don't have the processing service that
all your favorite retailers have. I can't take plastic. It's too
easily traced. Too many bureaucrats getting their hands in my pies.
This is a cash only transaction.”
Her hands begin to shake more than ever
as she puts the useless hunks of plastic back into her pockets. Her
voice picks up its old quiver again. “What about jewelry? I have
some rings on me and there are some gold chains my mother never
wears. She'd never notice if they went missing.”
“Nope. I can't pay my suppliers with
the presumed value of things that are probably going to end up being
reported as stolen the day after I deliver to you. I said cash, I
need cash. You want what I have, you pay me what I want.”
“But.....thirty five hundred dollars?
I can't get that much cash. My dad calls if I even get $100 out of
an ATM. They don't care how much I spend, they just want to know
where I'm spending it and that doesn't happen if I carry too much
cash around.”
He quickly closes the zipper on the
pouch and returns it to its hiding place behind his back. He flips
his notebook closed and slides the pencil back into the spiral
binding. He turns to leave the alley as she drops to her knees,
sobbing. “Call me again when you have the money. I will hold the
price for you for 48 hours. Any longer than that and my lack of
patience makes the costs go up.”
Her sobs become pleading wails for him
to do something for her. Wails that are only heard only by the one
person whose business ethics and lack of other morals give him no
desire to help the suffering soul in the alley.
As he turns from the dark alley onto a
dimly lit street, a single thought crosses his mind. “All of this
fuss and hassle over chocolate. Who'd have thought it?”
If chocolate were to be completely
banned in America, do you think you could live without it? What is
something you don't think you could survive without should it become
illegal?
