Hey everyone, this is Jenna's story. She want to tell you about her brother who is a drug dealer. "Here’s how I found out. A month ago, my brother, Zeke, started acting different. He had seemed out of it, always quickly leaving the house and returning for short, sporadic, periods of time. He started wearing clothes and jewellery that I had never seen before. And his work hours at Taco Time had decreased, so it didn’t make sense that he was spending so much money. I was naive as to what was going on, but I knew something was off. Then one day, I saw that he had 2 new phones, that he kept secret from everyone. Luckily, there is a little accuracy, because one of the detectives had mentioned that drug dealers often keep many phones, in case they need to destroy an old one as evidence. I went “aha!” and shot my index finger towards the sky as though I were trying to pick God’s nose. A glowing smile spread across my face. I ran to my parents in their room. “Mother! Father!” “What is it child?!” Dad said, with his deep thunderous tone. “It’s brother! Zeke, he has fallen ill!” “He needs a doctor?” Mom asked, with her deep thunderous tone. “No, he is only morally sick. Brother is selling drugs.” My parents looked at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Get out of here you rascal!” They said simultaneously, in their deep thunderous tones. Then they shoved me out of the room and locked the door. I knew the talking was over, because one Mom and Dad lock their door, it means there is absolutely no chance we’ll see them till they decide to come out again. This can last for days. So I grabbed life by the horns and decided to confront Zeke, I ran to his room. I slammed his door open. “You’re a drug dealer!” I yelled. I was angry. And disappointed. And worried. Zeke sat at a desk in his room, it faced the entrance where I stood. The desk had 5 phones on it, all new. Zeke pointed at a chair across from him at the desk. “Sit” I sat. “Listen” I listened. He then played a 3 minute and 24 second long song called “10 Crack Commandments”. I know it was this long because I counted. The song describes 10 rules needed to follow in order to effectively be a drug dealer. The song is by a 90’s New York rapper named Biggie. My brother is a white guy, we live in a suburban town. My brother and I spent the entire song staring at each other, not making a sound. The song ended. It was silent. Then he opened his desk drawer, and sat a gun on the desk, stared me in the eyes and said, “Are you in?” I stood up and looked away from him. “No, Zeke. What you fail to realize is, I’ll never join you.” I grabbed the gun and shot each phone to pieces. Then I told him his dealing days are over. He began crying, because of shock, and because those phones were expensive. I walked out of his room. Mom and Dad stood before me, both were red and sweaty, presumably from anger. Gun shots must have alarmed them. I told them Zeke was to blame, the damned dirty drug dealing delinquent. I walked past them, I saw a tear roll down Mother’s cheek as they entered his room and saw the scene. Then they slammed the door behind them, it was deep and thunderous. I made my way to the Pawn shop on the end of our street and sold the Gun along with some of Zeke’s jewellery that had been laying around".
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Hey everyone, this is Jenna's story. She want to tell you about her brother who is a drug dealer. "Here’s how I found out. A month ago, my brother, Zeke, started acting different. He had seemed out of it, always quickly leaving the house and returning for short, sporadic, periods of time. He started wearing clothes and jewellery that I had never seen before. And his work hours at Taco Time had decreased, so it didn’t make sense that he was spending so much money. I was naive as to what was going on, but I knew something was off. Then one day, I saw that he had 2 new phones, that he kept secret from everyone. Luckily, there is a little accuracy, because one of the detectives had mentioned that drug dealers often keep many phones, in case they need to destroy an old one as evidence. I went “aha!” and shot my index finger towards the sky as though I were trying to pick God’s nose. A glowing smile spread across my face. I ran to my parents in their room. “Mother! Father!” “What is it child?!” Dad said, with his deep thunderous tone. “It’s brother! Zeke, he has fallen ill!” “He needs a doctor?” Mom asked, with her deep thunderous tone. “No, he is only morally sick. Brother is selling drugs.” My parents looked at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Get out of here you rascal!” They said simultaneously, in their deep thunderous tones. Then they shoved me out of the room and locked the door. I knew the talking was over, because one Mom and Dad lock their door, it means there is absolutely no chance we’ll see them till they decide to come out again. This can last for days. So I grabbed life by the horns and decided to confront Zeke, I ran to his room. I slammed his door open. “You’re a drug dealer!” I yelled. I was angry. And disappointed. And worried. Zeke sat at a desk in his room, it faced the entrance where I stood. The desk had 5 phones on it, all new. Zeke pointed at a chair across from him at the desk. “Sit” I sat. “Listen” I listened. He then played a 3 minute and 24 second long song called “10 Crack Commandments”. I know it was this long because I counted. The song describes 10 rules needed to follow in order to effectively be a drug dealer. The song is by a 90’s New York rapper named Biggie. My brother is a white guy, we live in a suburban town. My brother and I spent the entire song staring at each other, not making a sound. The song ended. It was silent. Then he opened his desk drawer, and sat a gun on the desk, stared me in the eyes and said, “Are you in?” I stood up and looked away from him. “No, Zeke. What you fail to realize is, I’ll never join you.” I grabbed the gun and shot each phone to pieces. Then I told him his dealing days are over. He began crying, because of shock, and because those phones were expensive. I walked out of his room. Mom and Dad stood before me, both were red and sweaty, presumably from anger. Gun shots must have alarmed them. I told them Zeke was to blame, the damned dirty drug dealing delinquent. I walked past them, I saw a tear roll down Mother’s cheek as they entered his room and saw the scene. Then they slammed the door behind them, it was deep and thunderous. I made my way to the Pawn shop on the end of our street and sold the Gun along with some of Zeke’s jewellery that had been laying around".
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