Filed under: JUNKe life
I’ve been getting lucky of late. Lucky as in getting lots of morphines for less money. That’s kind of a good lucky, for sure. But, of course, my habit has increased in reverse proportionally to the drop in cost. And ultimately that may prove not-so-lucky. But for the time being I floating along just fine and the fact that one day I’m gonna have a hell of a habit to face getting sick from doesn’t concern me too much at present.
I have one person providing me with quantity at one-tenth the going per pill rate in this neck of the woods. So I can get 100 pills for what everyone else is paying to just get 10. I could be having the bucks flowing in if I decided to do a bit of selling, but they’re all going up my arm instead.
I have another person who has recently gotten a job in which all their meds are covered by a company medical plan. So they no longer have to pay a penny for their script. I used to get their entire script for the cost of getting it from the pharmacy (which was a very sweet deal). But now, I’m getting it for nothing. Imagine that? They just pick up from the pharmacy and hand the entire script over to me for nada. Not one penny! And I’m talking about 100’s of morphines each script.
So… things are pretty good these days. It’s all gravey, more of less.
There’s just one guy whose bugging me. He is a real pig when it comes to drugs. He’s the sort of person who will do a couple big whacks, one immediately after another, when the first one was more than enough. Still not satisfied, he’ll start asking for people’s washes… yep, he’s entirely without class. And then when he finds himself without because he’s done everything he can get his hands on as soon as he gets it, he has the gall to expect that others will be willing to carry him.
I’m always willing to help someone out in a pinch. But when it comes to this drug pig, I’ve reached my limit of compassion. I’d like to see him go sick. Not only do I not feel like helping him, I’d like to see him suffer a bit. Why? Because he’s the sort of person who will do three times as much as he needs, and then instead of helping someone in need, he’ll make a point of cooking up another pill and doing it right in front of them. When it comes to assholes like that, I have no compassion.
So anyhow, this pig has taken it into his mind to drop by every so often as give some bullshit story that he hasn’t had a hit in 24hrs and ask for some help. Besides being a pig, he’s a chronic bullshitter. I take one look at him and can plainly see he’s just hit up five minutes before visiting. Nonetheless, he’ll say he’s sick and ask for a pill or two, or even my washes. He does this because once in the past I did help him out when he really was hurting, so now he figures I’m a mark. If I say to him “sorry, can’t help ya” he’ll get all macho, and challenge me, saying something like “I can tell you aren’t hurting, so I don’t believe you don’t have something you can give me” or “you look obviously high to me, so you’ve obviously just gotten high, and you’ve gotta have a couple washes you could give me”. Lowlife, this guy is the posterchild of lowlife.
A couple days ago I was just preparing a hit as he knocked on the door. I’d just gotten home five minutes earlier, so it was clear he’d waited just long enough to feel certain I was fixing to come a bother me. Hearing his knock, I was pissed off. I yelled, “what the fuck do you want?”. Of course he goes, “whoa, is there a problem or something?” as if he’s Mr.Innocent. “No problem, I’m just tired and busy and was hoping for a couple minutes peace after running around all day” I replied, leaving off the “you fucking asshole” that I was thinking.
Anyhow, I was so pissed off that I screwed up while scraping the coating off a pill and half crushed it between my fingers. No big deal. I scraped the power and bits off the counter into my spoon. The next pill I fumbled and watched it bounce across the counter and into the sink, and then drop into the drain. Shit! I only had a couple of pills left, as I was resupplying the next day. So I needed that pill.
I told the jerk, “look, I don’t have anything for ya” and asked him to leave. He could see I was very angry, so he didn’t do anything dumb, he just turned and left.
I opened the counter doors below the kitchen sink and unscrewed the cap on the drain pipe’s trap. Out flowed a bunch a gross grunge and stinking water into the bucket below. I filtered out the bucket and there was my morphine pill, covered in stinking crap but still intact. I started to rinse it in the sink, forgetting that the trap was still open, flooding the counter below the sink. Shit!
So I took the pill and raced to the bathroom. I started rinsing it in the bathroom sink when it slipped out of my fingers and whosh! down the drain it went. Fucking shit! I pulled open the cabinet beneath the sink, and again opened the drain pipe’s trap. This time the liquid was fairly clean, and again I retrieved my pill from the muck.
I moved over to the bathtub and (using my brain this time) I put in the plug. Then I finally rinsed off the pill, and carefully picked out the embedded pieces of gritty shit that was in it. Amazingly the pill was still intact. For once I was grateful that the coating actually takes some effort to break down. Finally I got the pill all cleaned off, and dried off, and I went back to the kitchen where I’d been making up the hit in the first place.
I added the pill to the spoon. Crushed it up, cooked it up, and got all its goodness drawn up into my fit – hopefully without too much bacterial crap along with it.
I guess the morale of the story is “watch who you’re hanging out with or you could find things going down the drain”.
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