What king of fucking drugs, Proctor? Have you ever seen a drug? Do you even realize that they are different? Does he just deal all the drugs? And what kind of name is "Farone Jeondaire" anyway?
They also learn that it is, no surprise, blackmail on Junior that has convinced Junior to turn to the dark side.
Sloppy writing: Predictable and totally unrealistic. Teenagers are dumb, but what on earth could a pampered, wealthy teenager have done to be so bad that would convince them to sell drugs under threat of exposure? Again, this is the real fucking story here, pal.
"Rose Ann was speechless and the tension in her face indicated that she was indeed personally involved."
Sorry, I was under the assumption that this was the same phone call with Greenlee that started in the previous chapter. Is she face to face now?
Because he seems able to tell by her silence that she is "getting to close to anyone involved". I get it, whatever--you can't lie and all that. You can't even say "not your business". After all, his genitals are outside him and whatever.
The plot, like a good stew, thickens: They plan on sending a SWAT team after the Jeondaire fellow. So they... know where he lives. And that he's the biggest drug dealer in the state. And they just... let him do whatever and are only getting involved because some rich white person's son is involved?
Okay, fine, whatever.
Time jump!
We fast forward to after the raid. Because apparently a SWAT team raid isn't interesting. Proctor, you have no fucking idea what is interesting and what isn't. Ooo--spoiled teenager becoming a drug kingpin through blackmail against his father. Nope, not interesting--we're going with the weird no-kissing, no-sex Christian romance. Okay, how about an investigation and a drug raid on a drug lord? No, no--let's skip that.
Apparently it's normal for drug dealers to have an office. Was not aware of that--good to know.
"Why, there must be a hundred pieces of evidence here."
What a fucking brilliant deduction, Rose Ann. You are a fucking genius. Does it ever describe the evidence? No. Again, I really don't think Proctor knows what a drug is. He seems to think it's something you keep in an office. Maybe your daddy kept his Prozac in the office, honeyed crocodile, but that's hardly a drug cartel.
"Suddenly, for some unknown reason, the print of a particular document stood out in bold print."
I reread that several times thinking I was going crazy. Apparently, drug dealers not only keep an office full of evidence of their drugs, but they also keep neat little papers with convenient names, addresses, and businesses on them. Beyond that, bad writing award. You are the author: What makes the document stand out? Is the document on the floor? On a desk? Stuffed into a light fixture? We don't fucking know! Furthermore, the redundancy in the latter half of the sentence causes me pain. Oh, for the love of Pete's Dragon (the cartoon, not that abomination)--why?
Oh, wow--they went there. All the dick jokes and needing a cold hard fact behind him has been culminating to this moment. Apparently, Jim R. Watkins Sr. owns/owned (unclear) a men's bath house named "the Comfort Zone" which was conveniently printed on a document. This would make more sense as a business card, from a literary perspective. I mean, literally anyone can type words on a page. You proved that, Proctor.
I'm so excited--are we going to have something about how we can cure gayness through the Holy Spirit? Remember, if you fill yourself with Jesus, you'll never need to fill yourself with
Ah, shit. I might have to make another tag.
I need a fucking drink.
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