Oh god so much shit has happened I don't know where to begin...
So the window of the motel room I was staying at smoking crack all Saturday night got shot through because the fuckers I was getting high with owed some scumbag trigger happy drunken spick crack dealer (lets call him "Bob" which is certainly not his name) $140. Well, we wanted crack but we could not going to call Bob of course, because of their debt. So we called another dealer (lets call him "PJ" which is certainly not his name backwards) who was more than happy to come get our hard earned money. Hell, I was the one who made the phone call. It's not like I was fighting off temptation with any effort at all. So PJ knocks at the door, we let him in, the exchange is made, great. Now get the fuck out of my motel room. I'm the only crack smoker tonight with ID, the room is in my name, I don't want your black ass here very long. As the guy I'm smoking with (let's call him "Enahs" which is certainly not his name backwards) goes to lock the door behind PJ, someone else comes to the door. It's Bob! And he's not pleased to hear that "Enahs" and "Ylrebmik" don't have his "$140". So he's trying to bust open the door while Shane tries to lock it, meanwhile Kim and I are fighting for the best hiding place in the closet. Bob doesn't fuck around. If he wants his money bad enough he'll beat it out of them. Or me. And I've never actually had the honor of meeting Bob. I certainly don't owe him any money. Not that I'm bitter. Long story short, while Kimberly and I cowered in the bathroom (she was still doing hits, I couldn't believe it) Bob fired a bullet through our window. The funny part is, we were scared about people coming to our room cause we didn't want the owner kicking us out of the motel or the cops seeing the traffic. But our window was shot out by a very angry dope dealer after he finished banging on the door screaming "Where's my fucking money?" for 10 minutes, and the owner didn't even wake up. I can't believe this happened in West Palm Beach without police intervention. Usually WPB doesn't let me walk from the gas station to the CVS (2 blocks) without searching my bag and writing some sort of a ticket or court summons. If I'm clean, warrant-free, and have a legit reason for being out, the cop will make something up just to hand me that gold paper with a court date on it. But that broken window is a bitch and a half. If Shane doesn't get that payed by Tuesday (note: he smokes crack) then I'm up that famous creek once again. You know the one.
But wait, there's more! I got home Sunday at 8am and slept thru till Monday morning. I woke up at about 330am sick as a dog. It was easily remedied, but oh god. I never want to sleep 18 hours again, it was my first time being really truly dopesick in months and it didn't last a half an hour. Talk about junky luxury.
So Monday was Memorial Day. Gotta do something special. Might as well go ride with a friend to (guess where?) West Palm Beach. God forbid I go to Lake Worth, Greenacres, any of my usual haunts. No, my bitch ass wants to trick across the street from that same motel room where the window (didn't need Miss Cleo to predict this) is still broken. I must've waved to the motel owner or something, cause the cops searched me twice. They didn't find anything. My needle was in Joe's car.
That's right, my needle. Singular, like I only have one. And I've been using it since Saturday. It's about as sharp now as the average ballpoint pen by now. Weird thing is, I won't let a nurse give me a tetanus shot because "it hurts". Whatever. What mattered was, several hours had gone by and by then I had finally made it to Lake Worth, and I had brizz-ead.
"Can't hit the scene if you don't have the green." -The Mask
or, modified to fit my lifestyle choices:
"Can't hit the town if you don't have the brown. I better make a little stop." -yo
So we went (why not?) back to WPB to score. All the fuckshit way up to the north end where I hate hanging out at. I swear if my dealer "not Bob and not PJ but somebody else entirely" had made me wait in addition to making me drive into some weird black neighborhood where I was scared because my window was stuck in the down position, I'd have lost my mind. Thank the lord for marijuana. We lost a bag though, not sure how. We didn't realize it until we had smoked a couple other bags though, so it wasn't that big of a deal by then. "It's weird how the weed disappears," Joe says 3 bags into it. I laughed for 10 minutes. Literally. I couldn't breathe in.
Then I went through the Burger King drive-thru with my titties hanging out of my shirt. Yes, yes, I did this entirely on purpose just because... well why the hell not. The guy with the headset didn't sound like the type to call the police on a titty-flasher. I got some free fries out of the deal, so hell. That's what I was there for anyways, the fries. Remember I was stoned and on heroin by this point. So I started thinking, it's late, I'm really fucked up, only one eye is open and I'm laughing at my cigarettes. Newports! What a funny name for cigarettes. Ha ha ha. I knew what I needed to do. I needed to get a beer, drive to Ft Lauderdale, and do a shot on the lifeguard stand. Perfect end to a perfect night.
the thick white smoke makes me choke in pain while this lake worth funk spreads through my brain so i break the law but i'm not to blame you only know my place you don't know my name so i break the fence and i bend the steel and i steal the car and i grip the wheel and i park the car and i steal it again cause i really don't know what's happening i wait for night to fall so i can go outside but quickly run back in cause i don't wanna die the lake worth air alone it can corrupt your brain the smoke fills the sky enough to block the rain and i pray to god to have me justified cause my eyes are glazed and my brain is fried i don't have a name i don't have a home i don't wanna lay alone on a bed of stone i see that death awaits me on this narrow path but when I stop to think i can only laugh because i'm not alone it didn't take me long to see that everyone's singing the same stoned-out song
some say i'm real and some say i'm fake but i really don't care cause it's far too late you see, my body is weak and i'm losing breath and with every shot i can taste the death if i have to go you better take me fast because i started under and i'm sinking fast and when the ace of spades is missing from my deck then you'll know the dope has finally cut my neck hey don't look now but there he goes again it's me and the grim reaper best of friends he's always hangin' around waiting for me to die we shot a game of pool he's not a bad guy feel like i'm in the corner of a circle room at about thirteen in the afternoon and i still feel the strain but as i walk along i notice everyone's singing the same stoned-out song
if my time has come then i'm ready to go shoot me in the face with your .44 and as i'm falling down to my sorry death i'll laugh with my very last breath lose some, win some, that's how it goes i've been down and out and taken many blows but there ain't nothing here i ain't seen before i try to balance and they ask me to juggle some more you wanna see the world you wanna work in town you wanna meet a man you wanna settle down you wanna raise a family in your own home while i run with a crew from the ghetto zone well i could be right and i could be wrong and if i ain't dead yet then it won't be long but it doesn't matter what side you're on tonight everyone sings the same stoned-out song
1 week ago