Santa Barbara's Finest pt. 2

Bird nose looked like the lovechild of toucan sam and butterbean, and he dressed like he had cashed out at a Fred Durst garage sale.

Point of reference: Everybody in Santa Barbara does coke. Everybody. That includes pre-school teachers, pre-school students, priests, grandmas…little babies with trust-funds equal to India’s GDP who wear trendy diapers do coke. If you’re driving down highway 101 through Santa Barbara you’re probably doing coke off of your dashboard.

So what? So bird nose wanted some coke, bad. So bad that when all of his friends told him that they didn’t have any, he made a scene and claimed he was going to leave. When all his friends expressed a consensual approval with his plan he left them with a casual ‘fuck you fucks’ and walked to the other end of the room, pretending he knew other people at the party.

Bird nose wasn’t through. About ½ hour later he stormed into my roommate Doss's room and demanded coke. Doss got rational on him.

“Look, I don’t have any. If I did, I’d give it to you so you’d shut the fuck up!”

“What’s that?”

Doss looked at his desk where a small mountain of powdery off-white substance revealed his apparent untruths.

“Dude, that’s not coke.”

“Fuck you you little fuck, why the fuck can’t I have any look how fucking much you have?!?”

There was a lot. Enough to make Doss look like the middle-man between Pablo Escobar and Tony Montana. Why Doss had that much unconcealed and laying on his desk I couldn’t say. But he was caught.

Let’s backtrack to three day ago.