Jazz Junky

"Yeah, this guy definitely is a roaster, " Agent RonaldShamansky said as he examined the perps counter top.

It had all the telltale paraphenalia of a serious jazz junkie. The converted rotisserie oven. The handmaid wire roasting drums. The "postal scale". The roast log. the big fucking bag of high grade coffee beans from Rwanda. Very illegal stuff, probably secretly smuggled into the country up the ass of some poor drug mule.

"Yah, Yah Think he is big time?" Mac, replied his smug Canadian Counterpart. The roaster was big enough to burn up a whole pound of beans at time and the guy apparently had enough of stash to get the whole goddam High Scool Hopped up.

"NO," Shamansky said, " He got a lot of stuff, but it is some of the best shit I heard of." He looked the the bags, all carefully labeled. He saw a five pound baggy labeled "Tanzanian Estate Pea Berry" and a small cloth bag with "Brazilian Yellow Caterra" stenciled on it. Some of the stuff he had never even heard of in his ten years in CLEAN.

"Good shit eh?' Mac said as he ruminated upon this fact, " think he is just a connoisseur huh?"

"Yup" Agent Ron conceded. Everyone knew that if you were going to make dirt, you use the cheap beans like the Vietnamese Shwag, or the cheap Brazilian Robusta. While some high class dirt heads professed to a better buzz when their shit was made with primo beans, any chemist could tell that the source of the various chemicals to make dirt did not really matter.

"Just a poor fella on the jazz juice?" Mac asked

"Yup" Ron said as he put a marijuana cigarette to his lips and lit up.

"Still, " He continued after he took a long slow pull. "He might know something." Anybody who can get shit this good, had to know somebody worth finding out about. "Lets make sure to have him properly processed."

"As soon as we catch the fella.." Mac replied as he reached outside the doorway and came back with giant can of gasoline.

"Even though we got em with his pants down, the fella managed to get away". He said as began to slosh the gasoline all over the roaster and beans.

"MMrmmm," Agent Shamansky replied as he puffed on his cigarette and watched Mac douse the room. They had busted the guy when he was in the middle of screwing the Landlady's daughter. Even, with the his pants down his ankles, the guy had managed to wrestle free of the local authorities and escape down the fire escape. He was now at large, with a APB out for a tall, half naked pervert hopped up on jazz juice.

"I am sure that it will only be a matter of time." Shamansky said as he finished his joint and flicked the red hot roach into the gasoline soaked pile of coffee stuff.