Man, what a past three weeks

Have I mentioned how much I hate stakeouts? Sitting in your car for hours and hours watching the same place. You can’t move, stretch, go for coffee, sleep. We’ve been sitting on a stash house. Inside is money, drugs, and all the tools of the trade, including weapons. We’ve got to be damn careful. The slightest misstep and these past few weeks of sitting will be useless.

I just wish these scumbags would make a move so we could take them down. A lot of people don’t understand why we don’t storm in and rip the place apart. It’s basic, if we move in too soon and there’s no product or money or both, the runners will know they’re being watched and we can kiss them goodbye.

If they suspect their being watched, they’ll pack up part and parcel then move to a new location and set up business there.

You have to keep one eye on the house and the other constantly scanning your surroundings. At any moment someone can slip up, stick a gun in your face and POW! That’s all she wrote folks.

I’ve been so long without sleep I can’t remember a damn thing. I can’t recall who’s up to relieve me.

Wait a minute…there’s something happening. A van leaving the house. “Here we go boys. Someone’s coming out of our place. It’s a nineteen ninety-five Chevy van, black. Plate number BC4-981G. Let’s follow at a nice distance and see what’s up. Eyes open and let's not spook 'em, okay?”

“Copy that Justice.”

Here we go. ‘Bout time we got some action, my butt was beginning to mushroom.