We've done it before: Welcome to a taxonomical breakdown of dealers in the 21st Century.
1. College kid who’s just doing it for now, you know, but we can still be friends and stuff
Conversation commences with congenial greetings given to reduce the deal’s awkward air. Watch as bud balances on his scale. He bags it while a bowl floats through the room. “What are my plans? Oh, you know, just chilling, probably not doing a whole lot. How about you?” Well, all right. See you soon, man. Exeunt.
2. “Dead” Family Spaceman
At Camp Bisco or [insert electronic/jam band music festival], there’s that guy. You know, the one who’s taken a thumb-stamp of LSD and is still somewhere off in space while his physical body tries to push acid on you. That guy. What’s that rotten meat smell? That’s him. Beware of unwanted dosing.
3. The Apartment-Complex Coke Dealer
Have you ever bought coke out of an apartment without having a really, really uncomfortable encounter with your dealer? It’s coke, it’s a dirty drug, he’s a coked out, dirty guy whom you realize is ripping you off even as he explains in painstaking detail how great his shit is and how he’s hooking you up. You don’t call him out when he hands you a .5 baggy instead of the full g because he’s that guy: the one you don’t want to be around for more than five minutes. The guy who maybe, despite fucking you over regularly -- or even that-one-time -- thinks that you and he are friends.
4. Mollyfied Tweaker
It’s all in the jaw. That twitch. Those bug eyes. The hop-dance. Expect botox-level smile paralysis, stanky sweat and probably some bomb molly.
5. Black Tar Bill
He sells Xanax, average bud, some mystery pills, “opium” and black tar. Two days after you encounter him at “friend’s” apartment, he goes to jail for playing with butcher knives in public. Come on, bro.