Kadamba had only met Stelky a few weeks before. He went to another school, but “business” had made them “friends.” Stelky might not have been real smart, but he knew lots of people, and most kids knew Stelky could be trusted to be discrete. He wasn’t interested in handling any of the rath himself. He just wanted a little finder’s fee for each transaction that Kadamba made with his introductions.
A young boy, about 10-years old, walked up to the two of them, obviously trying to act older than he really was. “Little dude! What the hell? Get back to the playground and ride the slide or something!” barked Kadamba when he saw the boy.
“My money is as good as anyone’s,” the boy asserted.
“It ain’t about money, kid. You’re just too damn young to be messing around with rath,” Kadamba explained firmly.
“Am not! You want my money or not?”
For a few moments, Kadamba thought about the “credit” that Doctor Z had just extended. He had never had so much rath, and he HAD to sell it. But this kid was just way too young to be messing with the stuff. Wasn’t he? Rath was pretty tame compared to many of the drugs out there, or at least Ka thought so. It just mellowed you out, made you happy, and made lots of things seem really funny.
“No way, dude. It ain’t happening,” proclaimed Kadamba.
“I’ll pay thirty Konnary each for three of them,” stated the boy defiantly.
“Ain’t no way you’re walking around with almost a hundred in your little pockets.”
The boy looked around. No one was nearby. He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a stack of bills. Kadamba looked at the money, obviously struggling with what to do. He usually sold each packet for twenty, maybe even eighteen, to consistent customers.
Kadamba took a deep breath. “Alright, you win, but, little dude, you gotta be careful.”
