Five Dollar Wrench

Mister Foke

Most people sell Bitcoin through online exchanges, like Coinbase, but mine was stolen.  Even though I didn't understand any of this crypto stuff yet, I knew I needed to find another way.

Stealing Bitcoin is a crime.  Who better to sell it to than a criminal?

That meant going back to room 219 at the Boxtan Inn, a room I'd been to but never in.

The curtains were closed, but the light was on, so I knocked on the door.

A large black man named Boogie opened it, but said nothing.

"Greetings, sir.  Is Mister Foke available, perchance?"

The door slammed shut.

"Shit!"

I knew this meeting was a risk.  It would end with a fist bump or a body bag.  There would be no in-between.  I also knew of no other way to sell my Bitcoin, so...

I knocked again.

The door opened again.

"Hello!  You sure you don't recognize me?  Two years ago, a guy tried to rob you gentlemen.  A semi-dumpy short white chick sent him down a flight of stairs, tied him up with a hose, and held him at gunpoint with his own gun until you arrived.  Same chick provided the whereabouts of a scrawny bitch-ass whiteboy named Steve who was moving in on your turf.  Any of this ring a bell?"

The door slammed shut with a rumble that said it was now beyond shut.

Well, shit.

I knocked again.

It opened again.

"Remember???  You fellows used to refer to me as Hose."

As I stood there, watching a bewildered man watching me, I was desperately trying to not imagine what Steve might have been thinking, right before he got Steved.  But then, a deep voice bellowed from inside the room.

"Aaaah fuck, man.  Dat HOSE?  Shit!  Let her in!  She ok, Boog, she aaaight!"

Three large men, all of them bald, and each somehow larger than the other, except for the third man, who was larger than any man should be, were standing by a card table covered with guns, paper bags, and piles of cash.

The main man's name was Fokari, but everybody called him Foke.  We'd met, but I didn't know who he was at the time, and I didn't realize he was in charge until I saw the way he ruled the room during this meeting.  I just thought he was a guy.  Oh, no.  He was THE guy.  Boogie was his henchman.  The largest of the three men was known as Nono.  He was the muscle, which is putting it mildly.

"Wassup, girl?" Foke said.  "Get in here.  Yo, where you been?"

"I got another job.  It's better.  Nobody gets shot, and I never have to hose anybody's entrails off the side of a building.  But it's not as exciting, y'know?  This place has spunk."

"I hear dat.  Whachoo need?"

"Yeah, so...  I think...  I can maybe help you... with something?"

Boogie did not react well to the suggestion.

"Whadafuck?"

Uh oh.

Had I really thought this through?  It was too late to turn back, so I continued.

"Well, Mister Foke..."

"Meeeester Fowwwk???  Hahahhaa!!!"

"Boogie, shuddafuckup.  Wassup, Hose."

"Sir.  You sell 'inventory' which leaves you with an excess of cash, some of which may be a challenge to secure, such as what's on your lovely table right now.  I know someone experiencing the opposite problem.  My 'friend' is able to get a considerable amount of Bitcoin.  But this 'friend' lacks an off the books way of turning the Bitcoin into cash."

"Yo, Foke.  Whitey sayin' what I think she sayin'?"

Foke held his hand up, with the back side facing Boogie, and the room fell silent.

"Hold up.  No disrespect, yo."

Then, he lowered his hand slowly, with his palm facing me.

"Say it, Hose."

"I am saying, maybe we've got a win-win kind of opportunity here."

"Yo' friend legit?  How much coin we talkin'?"

Verbal fist-bump achieved.

Let me tell you something about drug dealers.

Say what you will about the business they're in, but do not misunderstand this: They're businessmen.

They are in the business of doing business.

I don't condone what they do.

I don't condone what I do.  I just do... what I do.

And Foke doesn't sell drugs to kids.  So that's... something.

Right?

Sigh...

...FINE.

Let's address the elephant in the room so we can get past the somewhat hypocritical, self-serving, and also kinda icky part.

Imperfect moral dilemmas will always exist in a perfectly immoral world.

We all know this.

But somebody's gonna blow a gasket if I don't say the thing...

...So:

Drugs are bad.  Don't do drugs.  Hugs not drugs.  Shiny happy people holding hands, because we are the world.  All you need is love and whatever other feel-good sayings, slogans or platitudes are required in order for you to come to terms with what's happening in this Ebony And Ivory moment.

OK?

We good?

Now, having relieved our conscience through the assistance of a touchy-feely public service announcement, let us also take a moment to acknowledge that Foke's crew took out a wannabe punk-ass whiteboy bitch who was slinging terrifying, synthetic, degenerative mindfucks commonly known as Shatterdust, Black Ice, Widow, and Ghoul to middle school kids, and let us find the courage to accept as true the undeniable fact that assisting one particular whiteboy in shuffling off this mortal coil, a moment immortalized by a surprisingly large stain, deep in a hardwood floor, thanks to a visit from Nono and The Meat Mower, was the right thing to do, even if there were, shall we say, other motivating factors, such as Foke's opportunity to end a competitor, and my ability to end a bad date on a high note, both of which were beneficial but neither of which is our concern in regard to the transactional enterprise being discussed herein.

Thus, in terms of improving upon the betterment of society, when all of this is considered from a broader perspective, without getting lost in the nitty-gritty details that will surely be forgotten by those who follow in our footsteps, it is reasonable to suggest we can just call this a goddamn win without overthinking it, and focus on what really matters here, which, for the sake of minimizing cognitive clutter and avoiding an ugly swim through the moral muck, uck, and fuck, all of which you can quite frankly, suck, I will simplify, summarize, and shutthefuckup upon saying:

I got Bitcoin I can't sell.

Foke's got cash he can't put in a bank.

Hello, problem.  Meet solution.

This works.

Editor's Note:

Foke's real name is Duquan Fokari.

Boogie's real name is Booker Gee.

The third man's identity is unknown.  Those who've met him refer to him as Nono or "No! NO!" depending on the circumstances.