Sure, it’s not really called High School High. But why not? Everyone here gets high.

It’s ridiculous really. But, if you wanna make some money without flipping burgers, you can’t go wrong with street pharmacology. I sell a little bit of everything to pretty much everyone.

Those overachieving cheerleaders who need a little extra to carry them through long days, extra-curricular activities, needy boyfriends, social obligations, and maintaining a good GPA? They like speed.

The letter jackets who devote their lives to extra yardage, extra practice, extra girlfriends, and extra special grading curves? They like a little bit of anabolic steroids to give them that extra push.

Those tie-dyed, Phish loving, patchouli-stinking, dread-locked, Bob Marley wannabes? Weed, shrooms, and LSD.

Brightly colored weekend candy ravers? You guessed it, X.

The metalheads sitting in the parking lot, late for class again? All of the above.

Me? What’s my drug of choice? Cash.
Monetary euphoria.

I get high on a fat wallet.