“I’ve been dealing dope since I was four.”
That’s what Ashley Tull’s daughter will be undoubtedly be saying to build up her own street cred in about ten years or so. That’s if she ends up anything like her momma.
Who let her go to daycare with hundreds of bags of heroin.
And pass ‘em out to her pals in between naptime and macaroni collages.
To be fair, Tull actually didn’t realize the buffet of illegal drugs that were actually her own were in her daughter’s backpack until after she got notified via a pair of legal bracelets and a serenade of Mirana Rights (happens to the best of us, right?). Rather – in what’s mayhaps the most epic “the dog did it” excuse I’ve heard to date – the family pup destroyed the toddler’s usual book bag. So, in the every-family’s-been-there-routine of late night/early morning rush before hitting the road, they absentmindedly switched over to another one. It’s just that in this case – the shoe-in had mommy’s merchandise for her side job inside. I suppose, being a busy mom just like some of you are – I’m sure, she simply didn’t stop to ask herself, “Oh, wait. Is that the bag my smack’s in?”
But it gets even better.
So, the kid gets to daycare and passes out these powdery packets – why? For one, she probably thought it was a surprise treat from her mommy. And secondly, obviously, because she’s generous (and probably her mom set the example of “sharing” by passing out complimentary samples to her customers – like any good saleswoman hoping for return patronage would do). And the unassuming wee bit just thought… they were candy. *Goss Pause* Wait – so the kid takes mom’s heroin baggies to daycare and passes ‘em out. And mom takes kid’s candy baggies to the street and passes ‘em ou-… Oh man, I bet she sure had some pissed off, itchy, clammy ass clients that day.
Anyone else see the makings for an excellent zany 90’s Disney flick?
Starring LiLo?
But if you’re a frequenter to the AshleyPants party, you might know already:
I don’t like to end a finger pointing tale without a story moral.
So, I’ll begin by saying that if you’re gonna go hard and moonlight as a pusher, don’t be so goddamned cheap. I mean, that’s a decent paying gig, isn’t it? You earn enough that if you’re not dipping into your shiz making you too high to keep business minded (and too poor because you can’t sell the stuff you keep smoking all up for yourself), you’d be able to protect your goods a bit better. Like, by keeping it in a safe maybe. Not in a child’s satchel.
So, the lesson of today :
Stop getting high on your own supply, go buy a lock box for your stash, and keep that shiz away from your kid. You might be a lost cause, but that poor little fccker doesn’t have to be. And, as a last resort (and I believe we’re there, Miss Tull), if you’re too stupid or too much of a junkie yourself to successfully do drug related crime – then quit while you’re behind (bars) and try a couple 12 step meetings out to see if you can salvage your life, maybe? Hmmm?
Because I just don’t think this gig’s your thing, my love.
Good effort, though.