La-Ra. Grime. Ring-pop. Shoulder-molder. Rezi. There were a lot of names for DDHP. The best Kenzo had ever heard was “muppets” and just thinking about, tweaking little puppets going on killing sprees in Malaysian-made drop top Cadillac X29s, gave him the chuckies. But whatever the street name on the lips, in the eyes, it had only one, the same, call-sign: “Now.” And who was Kenzo to disagree with that kind of fervor? So he’d wake up every day, before even the day-ringers and tracktraders were up, taking the 99 monobus with his hot stash in his pocket — the heaviest half-kilogram on the face of the fucking planet — to that dry stretch on Via Paolo Lomazzo and set up shop by with the tilt of his hat.
And on this morning, this kind of morning, well, why not have a drag to celebrate good business? Then again, if Kenzo knew then what he would know at the end of today’s workday, he would have had two drags.

Image via The Sart.