The Person I'm Next Is Younger Than Me And Probably Is A Junkie

I'm next to this kid. He is teenage thin, with blue mesh shorts, a marines t-shirt, and a buzzed head. Due to the fact that apparently I'm ancient nowadays, I find this youth immediately suspect. He has this smug arrogant look. I feel like is because he is statistically likely to die decades after I do, and thus will have a much greater chance for hover board rides, and getting a robot arm. But, to be honest it could be about the hickey on his neck. Anyway hickey or lifeline, the sheer fact that I dislike this kid from a chronological standpoint is soon bolstered out by the fact that the first word I hear him say is, 'bitch'.
What a hooligan. I know this kid is up to no good. Swearing, and being younger than me, thats two strikes kid, and you know what? I'm giving you a third, cause I damn well want to. So three strikes, now I'm on the case. I sidle up and eavesdrop on a conversation he is having with yet another youth. The first thing, and only thing, I hear is a phone number, which I quickly write down. I bet it is his drug dealer's number. Kids all have drug dealers. So following up on my hunch, I call the number. It goes straight to voice mail. Guess what, it is one of those voice mail messages that just recites the number you dialed and asks you to leave a message. Why do I need that number? I just dialed it. Sounds suspicious, in other words, definite drug dealer voice mail. So I leave a message, I leave my name and number and ask this probable drug dealer to call me back. They won't call back though, they can hear the years making my voice heavy, old people don't buy drugs.
In all the excitement I forgot to say the kid bought a heath blizzard, we were at a Dairy Queen. After that he left.
He said 'bitch' like 7 more times.

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