People always ask me, “Bro, how are you always on time?” Like I’m some kind of mortal man. Like I don’t have generations of precision, discipline, and logistical mastery flowing through my veins.

You think I’m just “fast”? No. I am inevitable. You text me? I already knew you would. Your phone vibrates, and before you can even look at the screen, I’m outside your door, standing still, hands in my pockets, expression unreadable. You ever wonder why you never see me arrive? Why you never hear a car? Don’t worry about it.

And the product? Pure. Refined. Ancient formulas passed down through methods you are not ready to understand. You take one hit, and suddenly you’re sitting straighter. Your mind is clear. Your debts? Gone. Your Mandarin? Fluent. I have watched men go from unemployed to six-figure salaries overnight. A single joint has turned D-students into engineers. You do not smoke my supply—you are chosen by it.

The prices? Too good, you say? Too cheap? That’s the point. You think this is about money? You think I do this for profit? My friend, this is bigger than you. Bigger than me. Bigger than the free market itself. You ask why my rates never change, why inflation does not touch me. That’s because my supply chain is backed by an entity older than Western capitalism itself. I say no more.

Loyalty? I reward it. I have a system. A structure so meticulously calculated that even your grocery store’s membership program would weep at its inefficiency. First-time buyer? I remember. Repeat customer? You rise in the ranks. Bring me more people? The rewards compound. One day, you will receive an envelope. No name, no return address. Inside, a card. It will say “Platinum Tier.” Do not ask what it means. You’ll know when it’s time.

You do not find me. I appear when you are ready. You do not “order” from me. I have already foreseen your needs. And I am never late.