Snow White

It's Christmas, I'm told, and so I remembered  that I had written a piece that at least had Snow in it somewhere. So here goes:

My name does not matter. Also, I will not give you any other names or telephone numbers. – Nah, stop! Stop it. Please shut down that camera. I don’t want that. OK. Now I can speak. What I have to tell you is going to be hard to believe, but it’s true. By god it is. Well, the girl you call “Snow White” was on H and Crack. Heavily. During the time she stayed with us in our house, she received her dose every day from a messenger, an old woman. Aw, those pushers are so ugly. I seen them when I had to go back to the house to fetch a lamp while my men were out to work. From the moment I saw that she bought drugs from that whore, I observed them every day. In the end, she nearly died from an overdose. She broke down, anorexic and white-skinned as she was, and fell into a coma. We all thought that she was dead, though. So we put her into that huge tupper-ware box we used to put our hunted animals in and carried it to the graveyard. One of us stumbled and so we crashed the whole thing onto the ground. Some pervert sprang from the bushes to get a glimpse at the corpse. But she wasn’t dead after all. She woke up and was dragged away by the pervert. Actually, it’s much nicer at home since that drug addict doesn’t sell all the furniture anymore…