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Dear Drug Pusher

Story style letters to a drug pusher

DearDrugPusher
Below you can find a copy of the first letter and a few snippets from other letters in this short compilation of letters to a drug pusher. Each letter tells a story or conveys a strong satirical message.

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The first Dear Drug Pusher letter.

Dear Drug Pusher
I was only nine when we met. I had a taste of your product long before that. I was a user before I even entered the world. The only way my mother could find to stop me crying once I was born was feeding me at her teats. At seven my father was arrested and my mother and I were left to fend for ourselves in this beautiful world. How was my mother to support her habit? There was no way she could. For the first year or so my father’s side of the family helped her out with a little money to get by; she used it to get by from one withdrawal to the next. When a friend of theirs explained how she was spending the money they cut her off and tried adopting me. My mother refused and though they tried to convince her they did not succeed. They might have tried the traditional route of doing things but grandpa had his own history and with his criminal record they had no chance of getting anywhere.
Well now without an income my mother started to run up a bit of a tab with you from what I understand. Savage Jack the local pimp agreed to pay her debts to you for a while. Eventually Jack got what he wanted and practically owned my mother. Though her teeth had started rotting a little my mother was still one of the prettier women in the area we lived in and Jack decided to keep her to himself most of the time. It was another six months or so before Jack found someone prettier and when my mother would not work the streets for him he kicked her to the curb. When I say kicked her to the curb; I mean really kicked her to the curb. She had clung to his legs begging him not to move her out; yet out she went. I hid behind the tattered couch but soon enough Jack dragged me out also. We spent a few days living in a friend of my mother’s car but as her withdrawal symptoms really started to kick in we had to come find you.
My mother begged you to help her out a little bit; you did. You moved us into your house away from the filthy neighborhood we had learnt to call home. Your wife was not too pleased at first but she got used to us. My mother started working for you; pushing drugs. A few weeks later she was making enough to support her habit and moved us into a small apartment. The best way to describe the apartment was distressed and I don’t mean that fancy distressed look rich people pay a pretty penny for. I mean moldy kitchen cupboards and leaking rusty taps. Child protection services would have had a field day if they found me. Somehow my mother had managed to keep me in school so far. Since no one knew where we lived and I had learnt from a young age not to talk much about anything to anyone they never quite caught on. As the weeks went by we even started to have a stocked fridge and a few canned goods at home. Things were getting better for me. Then it happened, my mother got caught with your stuff and they took her away.
I still don’t know to this day how you pulled it off but you became my temporary parental guardian. I moved back into your big nice house and though I missed my mother, I had already experienced losing one parent; so another came as no great change in my life. The food at your house was good and the bed I slept in was so soft I nearly forgot all about my mother. Soon enough though; I had to start earning my keep. What a novel idea you had; I could carry stuff around for you. Who would suspect a nine year old girl? I even took stuff to school with me for you, to keep it safe.
Dear drug pusher; I met so many interesting people thanks to you. We went so many places after school and late at night together. I remember when you started to get paranoid that I might talk to someone and gave me a taste of what would happen if I ever told anyone what we did. I never did. I honestly think once would have been enough to get your message across but you had to keep reminding me. The fun really started when I was thirteen though. I was old enough to start joining you at the dodgy underground night clubs. I was a tall girl for my age already five foot five and when I put my make up on I’m sure I looked at least twenty one. Then again none of the security guards ever asked you any questions except where to meet us to get their next fix. I was nearly ready to call you dad by then but you never let me. We got along quite well you and I. Finally you had understood I would never tell anyone about you. After all you were the one that watched out for me; you kept me safe, fed and healthy. You even made sure I went to school every day and bought me practically anything I wanted.
Your wife took a while to come around but after about a year or so even she started to tell people she was my aunty. Aunty Janice and Uncle Matt. You both even made sure I never took any drugs myself. To anyone else it might have seemed nonsensical but then again you and Aunty Janice both avoided the drugs yourself most of the time. Sure there were a few times you did a few lines of cocaine or popped an E at the end of the night when business was done with, but most of the time you were pretty clean cut. You also thought me how to be a little actress. So often I’d sit there gnawing at my own lips and rolling my eyes back a little to fit in when clients came next to us at the club. My favorite though was rubbing my nose and parading around like I was a little goddess.
As I got older you could not help yourself though, you started to let me have a little cocaine with you here and there. If Aunty Janice ever found out I think she would have been mad at you. I am quite sure she would have been even angrier at the things you made me do to you sometimes in the car on the way back home. I never told though. It made you happy and in a way I felt I owed you something for all your generosity over the years. You said I did. As I got older I started to like other men but you kept me all to yourself. I was scared of you sometimes but I think I was in love with you anyway so it did not matter too much. As time went by I was not just doing things to you anymore; you started to do things to me. They felt nice and I thought we were in a relationship of some kind. Maybe we were. We had to keep everything a secret of course. Everything was a secret with you after all. Aunty Janice would have killed you I think. Oh well; our little secret.
I killed her. I killed Aunty Janice. You would never know, you would never guess but I thought it was time you knew. She was not sick, I poisoned her; a little each day; until she was gone, forever.
I thought that once she was gone we could be together. You know like a real couple; husband and wife kind of. I loved Aunty Janice but she was in the way and you thought me all too well that when something got in the way the simple solution was getting rid of it. I thought of doing it your way; a gun to her head or knifing her in her sleep but there were two obstacles. The first obstacle was you might catch me; I mean you might have understood I meant well but what if you chose her and turned me in? The second problem was it felt so messy, so personal. I did not hate her or anything I just wanted her gone so we could be together. I knew you loved her; but; you loved me too. I did not want to make you have to decide, it was easier this way.
When she died though you changed, you became mean to me. We still did those things we used to do but you beat me black and blue. It took a while for me to learn to hate you a few years went by before I gave up on us. I tried to leave but you said no! I even ran away once but you found me. It was a crazy two weeks. When I finally stopped loving you and learnt to hate you it was easy to do it. I killed you. I thought you should know. It was me that pulled the trigger. No; it was not Tony or any of the other pushers. It had nothing to do with taking your precious turf. It was all about you and me.
It was easy really, I called Mark and told him that the cops were following you and it was best the two of you did not meet that night. He believed me of course; you never called him yourself anyway. I always called for you; that time I just did it from the bathroom instead of standing next to you. When we got to the farm I let you step out of the car first. I cannot believe you did not notice Mark’s car was not there yet. He always got there before us. I waited until you got to the door and as soon as you put your hand on the door handle I knew you were not going to look back. I took the gun you gave me out of my purse and shot you in the back of the head. I thought it would feel different; but, I felt nothing.
I hope I got rid of your body the right way. I helped you enough times so I think I did it right. No funeral for you uncle. No fake friends saying how great a man you were. No; none of that for you. Just a torched car as your coffin in a swamp in the middle of nowhere and maybe if you are lucky some day they will find you so they can say you once lived. Nobody cried at your funeral; it was just you and I. I think I laughed but I am not sure if I did or not. Where am I now? I took most of the drugs you had left and sold them to your own pushers; I told them you had gotten into some trouble with the cops and had to go to Cuba to get away from it all until the cops gave up on you. I told all of them it could be weeks; months or years before you came back. They believed me especially when I sold them everything at nearly half the going rate.
You needed money to get by of course so it made a lot of sense. I knew that if I tried charging the same price you did they would have just taken the drugs from me on credit and tell me they would pay you when you got back; whether I liked it or not. I also went back to the house and took all the money we kept hidden. Where am I you ask again from your swampy grave? Here and there; I move around from state to state, I cannot quite open a big bank account or anything like that and if I stay in a place too long people start wondering how I can afford to get by. Instead I am eternally on holiday until the money nearly runs out. Then when it nearly does; I intend on getting a normal job and a normal life; crazy I know, but, I think I might just manage.
Leanne.

Letter to a Drug Pusher from the Mayor

Dear Drug Pusher
Dear drug pusher, I have seen many things in my life; I have travelled the world and over the years I have met many drug pushers. I have also met many people from many walks of life and I have heard many stories about their drug pushers. I also know many people that never really wanted to push drugs but they did. Many consider you the symptom and in many ways you are. I have lost friends to the substances you provide and have introduced a number of others to professionals to help them get their lives in order.
Dear drug pusher; I have also met many people that have had very functional lives and used your services for recreational purposes or a quick pick me up when times were really hard. I even know a few people that swear that if it was not for the drugs you supply; enabling them to self-medicate they would have ended their life long ago. I have met many others that have been through so much in their lives that the sweet escape you offer them is much better than the reality they live in.
Others whose minds conjure a much crueler place or relive their most painful memories without control; your drugs numbing their senses they feel at peace. I try to make heads or tails of where exactly you fall in the grand scheme of things. I think to myself about the different pushers that exist. I think of the difference between the people born into a life of dealing; the people that fell into the trap and the people that actively sought out to be drug pushers. I realize that the system is flawed and often the pushers that are caught are lower level pushers while the more organized drug lords seem to slip through the cracks with rarely enough evidence to put them behind bars.
I also logically deduce that as a general rule you are indeed the root of the problem in many ways. You see whilst I can logically deduce that in places where the drug grows freely one may accidentally ingest, inhale or consume the substance in a naturally occurring state. I also deduce that in a place where the substance does not grow naturally it is always a pusher that introduces the substance to an individual. Now I know that you logically deduce that if there was no demand then you would not be there to supply it.
Therefore whilst the system seeks to punish you the truth of the matter is that you are supplying an already existing demand. Furthermore you are supplying a product that there is a recurring demand for. Now let us logically discuss a few things you and I. If there is a demand and you are simply supplying that demand then you are not really doing anything wrong right? This is where you and I must disagree though. I do understand your logical reasoning and if I was not the type of person to question a simple logical deduction I would simply agree with you.
Why do I think your supply and demand logic is flawed? Well, let us take a look at a few other supply and demand scenarios. In the past there was a demand for slaves; in a very sensible fashion entrepreneurs like yourself thought to themselves that since there was a demand they would go ahead and supply. So they had a novel idea; let us go to continents where there are races different to ours; find the healthiest and strongest specimens and bring them back home. It was a case of simple economics; supply and demand right?
…………………………… CONTINUED IN THE BOOK —->