Sales.

There's a point that you reach in which your past somehow hooks onto the present and refuses to be torn away and thrown back into a corner of your mind. Not to be cliche or melodramatic, but I've reached that point.
Poleepkwa eggs. They're sold, like property--I know that all too well, and I know without a doubt that it has to stop. After searching and guessing, I've managed to find a man who sells them. For the sake of keeping this post reasonably reader-friendly and short, I won't say how. All I'll say is that it wasn't easy or pleasing.
I don't know his real name, only his "trade name," Blue Fly. Apparently all these dealers and handlers create bizarre pseudonyms in order to evade authorities and other dealers. He runs an escort agency; people call in and pick from a catalogue containing pictures of everyone in the "stable", then wire money to him and receive poleepkwan eggs, adults, and services. Yes, a catalogue--the first thing he did when I contacted him was send my a digital copy.
This has to stop. This can't go on. I'm doing something to end this.