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I remember it like it was yesterday. November 14, 2015 was the date. I was then a sophomore at The University at Buffalo in Buffalo, New York. If you know geography, you know that Buffalo is about a 45 to 60-minute drive outside of Toronto, a glorious place where the drinking age is 19. Because of this, me and a few of my buddies head up there about once a semester.
We were going up for the weekend this particular time around, so naturally we needed drugs to last us the four days. I hit up my dealer that I know in Toronto, and he comes through to the Airbnb where we’re staying. As he’s selling us the weed that he claims is the same strain that Drake smokes, I realize that we aren’t going to be able to pay for the whole load. Sure enough, when I asked him how much, we came up $20 short. I tell him this, but he says, “Nah it’s all good. You’ve bought from me a few times so I’ll let it go this time.” So we give him the cash, and let him go on his way, without the full payment. This turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
Fast forward through a booze filled two nights, and we get to Saturday morning. Me and my boy Tim are passed out in the living room when we get a knock on the door. I’m thinking to myself, Who the fuck could this be? I’m in a another country and nobody knows where I’m staying.. Then it hit me like a Baylor football player in an argument with his girlfriend. What hit me was the realization that my drug dealer, who didn’t get paid fully, knows where I’m staying. I start panicking, and then a huge bang came at the door, followed by a dude yelling “WAKE THE FUCK UP, MOTHERFUCKERS!”
I wake up Tim and open the door. At the door are three gentlemen of African-Canadian descent. One standing in the middle who was the boss, and two on either side of him, who were the looked like Huell from Breaking Bad, except jacked. They come in without asking. Immediately, bossman says, “So, y’all motherfuckers stiffed my boy Jaylon on some weed.” I, now losing my mental shit, tell him that my dealer said it was cool, and that I didn’t know it was gonna be a problem. He snaps back saying, “Well it is a motherfucking problem!” He then goes on to say, “Listen, y’all need to get me my fucking money or my boys Jackson and Demarco here are gonna fuck up y’all shit.”
Tim finally steps in and says, “Listen, bro, calm down. I’m about to run down to the ATM, grab the cash, and everything will be fine.” Bossman tells him, “Listen, I don’t got time for this shit. You got ten minutes to get back here or I’m cutting this ninja’s toe off.” The ninja he refers to is me, and I am so terrified at this point, that I legitimately don’t know if he said ninja or something else. Sure enough, ten minutes go by, Tim isn’t back yet, and despite my request, Bossman has Jackson and Demarco hold me down to the couch. He then whips out a knife and chops off my left pinky toe.
Now there is blood gushing out of my toe, I’m freaking the fuck out, and I can only imagine what is going through the heads of my other two buddies as they walk in on the scene. About 30 seconds later Tim comes sprinting through the door with the money and the drug dealers bolt without a second thought. To make a long story short, I did get my toe reattached after telling doctors that I dropped a knife while I was cutting tomatoes. Needless to say, I got a new drug dealer in Toronto..
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