I go to the same dispensary all the time to acquire product. Mobbed-Up OC to the gills. No problem. The place is run by the mob wives who are tough Russian ladies. I do good business, only business, and show gratuity for doing business. Anyway I go in today and am in a friendly mood as usual. I start talking to one of the mob wives about watching Summerslam. I guess my gestures were a bit large which alerted the Italian who was really the guardian of the establishment. I grabbed my bag and ran.
"Stai parlando a me?"
"Stai parlando a me?"