“That depends upon how far you want to take your dreams,” answered Gypsy.
“I want them to go real far,” the young man said.
“Well, I got some good blotter acid that should help you get there,” said Gypsy.
“For you, my brother, ten bucks.”
Gypsy went into his satchel and pulled out a large manilla envelope. He then took a sheet of white blotter paper that had been divided into little squares. In the center of each square was a transparent spot. As the white tank top dude passed over a crumpled ten dollar bill, Gypsy cut out a square and handed it to his first customer of the afternoon.
“Thanks, man,” said White Tank Top Dude as he put the little square in his mouth.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you. Enjoy the festival.”
After only a few minutes four new customers came up to Gypsy’s make shift kiosk. They bought some weed, hash and mescaline.
“How much longer are you going to be doing business here, Gypsy?” asked Misty.
“Oh, for about another twenty minutes. I’ll see how sales go,” replied Gypsy.
“I’m not going to stand here all afternoon. I intend to have some pleasure along with my business. I’m not one of these greedy pseudo freak capitalists. I just sell enough dope to get by. I might come back here after Chopping Block finishes their set. I’ll see how it goes,” Gypsy explained.
Gypsy and Misty then starting walking towards the main stage area. As they were about twenty minutes away Gypsy and Misty had a little time to get to know one another.
“How old are you, Gypsy?” Misty asked.
“I’m twenty three, my dear, a little older than you I imagine.” answered her companion.
“Are you from Winnipeg?”
“No, I’m originally from Berkeley, California but I’ve spent most of this year just traveling across the States and Canada.”
“So what brought you to Winnipeg this summer?” Misty asked.
“I came up to visit my sister. She has terminal cancer and the doctors aren’t sure how much time she has left. I wanted to see her in case she doesn’t last the summer,” Gypsy explained.
“Wow, man, I’m sorry,” said Misty quickly lowering her eyes. “Did you have a job while you were in Berkeley?”
“Well, for about a year I taught in a Berkeley alternative school,” answered Gypsy?
“You were a school teacher?” said Misty in surprise. Somehow I have a hard time picturing you as a school teacher.”
“So do I. That’s why I left the profession,” laughed Gypsy. “Actually I enjoyed the teaching part but I didn’t like having to enforce rules and discipline all the time.”
“What grades and subjects did you teach?” Misty asked.
“I taught grades seven to twelve English and social studies mostly. I also taught a lot of some guidance courses such as family life and drug and alcohol education, “replied Gypsy.
“Drug and alcohol education? You’ve got to be kidding,” laughed Misty.
“Well, I did start to feel like a bit of a hypocrite,” joked, Gypsy. “You see it’s kind of a long story. I was brought up by parents who were both in the military. Heavy on rules and regulations, the whole nine yards. You could say that in a way I got my adult and teenage rebellion years backwards.”
“You know, in a weird kind of way that does kind of make sense,” said Misty.
“Aha, someone who understands me, at last” laughed Gypsy.
Misty and Gypsy kept up this lively conversation all the way back to the concert area. Gypsy looked around a bit and finally spotted his buddies. When they joined up with them his friends they were all well into the party atmosphere. Joints were being passed around and a large bottle of cheap wine was making its way down the line.
“How was business, Gyp?” asked one of his buddies named Joker.
“It was all right. A few sales here and there. Enough to keep us partying for a while,” Gypsy answered.
“Hey, who’s your friend?” asked Louie another one of Gypsy’s friends. Louie had a tattoo of a cobra on his left arm.