We lived in the city, behind Bay View [hospital] off of Kane Street. It was my sister, my brother, me and my dad in a row house. Dad worked his ass off, painted on the side for extra money, and always smoked his weed.

Our main hustle revolved around his pot smoking.

He would come home and immediately go get high, he would go to his room, you’d hear the window open and he’d come out ready for dinner a little while later, all mellow. Then we’d eat dinner and he’d go back to his room. I’d give him enough time to get started—to let the guilt set in. Then I’d go knock, “Dad, Dad?”

First came the cough, then the window shutting, then he’d come to the door as high as fuck and ask what I wanted and I’d tell him, “Dad, we need shoes,” and he’d cough up a hundred dollars apiece for Nikes. I always had at least one pair of white Nikes I hadn’t worn yet. What a hustle. There is no way I’d pay that kind of money for shoes.

Next door there was this mother and daughter. The daughter was sixteen, seventeen. Mom was maybe forty-eight and would forever have random men coming and going. It was ri-dic-u-lous. We were thirteen, fourteen, my sister and I. One time mom comes home from an all nighter wearing her daughter’s pants that had “juicy” embroidered across the butt. My sister and I looked at each other and said, “Look at this old wreck of a bitch in her daughter’s clothes. Can you believe this shit?”

The messed up thing was, this bitch had a deadbolt on the outside of the door and used to lock her daughter in while she went out at night. She’d come home in the morning all hoed out—maybe even bring a random man back with her and she’d ask us if her daughter had had any boys in there while she was gone. Of course we said, “No.”

Well, the kitchen window wasn’t something a normal person could get in and out of—I mean if there had been a fire this girl would have had to jump from the second floor. And it just so happened that this girl’s boyfriend was super skinny, Austin was like as thin as a piece of paper and he’d slide in and out while she held the window open. And she had that covered too. She looked at us and said, “How would you like ten dollars for telling my mom you didn’t see nothin’?”

So that was our side hustle. Austin would be walking down the alley while mom was at the front door. But you know, at least the daughter just had one boyfriend, not a bunch of random men.

Recognizing and Surviving the Condition of Anarcho-Tyranny