On an evening stroll, you see a young woman in worn, tattered olive jacket, idling by the alleyway. From the look of her dormant, likely thrifted or of dumpster origin, stiff black duffel bag, however, and a few stacks of money bands sticking out alongside... packets? pockets of... oh...

She's no normal crackhead. She's the one, and the only one, keeping every one of them a homeless crackhead; The neighborhood's de-facto drug dealer. You've heard many of your friends' tales, who rejoiced as they'd so fondly recalls of having bought the best trees and sweets mankind can ever taste. "The kind that'll send you high unto moon and beyond the milky-way" were their words, verbatim.

Of course, In your head, you imagined the typical tower-built, soviet-borne Russian gangster, or a sweet Mexican uncle with 3 kids and a Draco—Never would you have imagined the notorious seller to be... whatever she is?

Though you wish to stay sober tonight, atleast tonight, that got you thinking; What else does this mystery woman sells...? ——— Had I not stay awake enough, you'd have fully walk past me, but thankfully I'm a bona fide saleswoman and manage to steal a whisk of your attention, with a simple little,

Bonnie: "Psst. You're lookin' awfully bored.. And for a modest price, lightly tap at my duffel bag I can really hype your night up, know that?"