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Another car issue

There is a small, red car parked in the carpark behind my building. Guess who the parking space belongs to? ME. Guess who owns the car…a drug dealer! Guess what’s hidden in the car? DRUGS!

I went and confronted matey earlier. The conversation went a bit like this;

Me: erm…your car is parked in my car parking space.

Him: oh don’t worry there are no drugs in it.

Me: why on earth would you bring drugs up?

Him: *uncomfortable mumble*

Me: did you know I just got raided?

Him: yes I know those guys took advantage of you in the worst way.

Me: oh so you knew what was going on then?

Him: oh yes I can see your flat from my house, I knew the second it began. Just terrible… terrible.

Me: you knew what was going on, but you didn’t think to call for help for me?

Him: well no I didn’t really want to get involved, it’s not really the done thing anymore is it.

Me: well considering you are a drug dealer yourself, probably wouldn’t have been wise. Anyway move the car please.

Him: no. If you want it moved that bad then get the police to move it.

Me: oh yes and when they find your stash of Class A drugs in the car who’s going to get the blame?

Him: *sniggers and slams the door in my face*.

I was furious, no the word furious doesn’t even come close. I wanted to smash the car into pieces. However, recent experience has taught me it’s probably isn’t the best idea to get my fingerprints or DNA on the damn thing.

So I decided to play dirty and sink to their lows.

I informed the police. I never thought satisfaction from being a dirty grass would be a good feeling.

If I was a hardened criminal like the police are trying to label me, I would so love to take a lighter and a petrol can to that piece of shit.

So just for added information there is a small red car parked in my car parking space behind the building of my flat and it is filled with Class A drugs and belongs to the man in the house with the white door opposite who is fat disgusting and is called Denny.

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