Savages

182

Two DP wannabe gangbangers spotted the strange van and took about fifteen seconds to boost it.

Joyrode it down to Doheny Beach, where they looked in the back and couldn’t believe their luck.

All that yerba.

Wide-eyed, Sal looks at Jumpy and asks, “How much you think this is worth?”

“Lots.”

Mucho dinero.

They can’t help but sample just a little. Peel a corner of the wrapping off one brick—

“Is that blood, hermano?”

“Mierdita, is that hair?”

—and smoke up.

Unreal, cabron.

A one-toke high but they each take three. Inside five minutes they’re higher than the sky.

“We’re rich,” Jumpy says.

“Where can we sell it?” Sal asks.

“This shit?” Jumpy says. “Anywhere.”

They bliss out on this thought for a few minutes, then Sal really fires up. “Think for a second,” he says, although this is very difficult. “This could be our ticket.”

They been trying to break in for a while. This could be that stamp on the hand that lets them in and out of the club.

VIP Room, too.