Tales of a Drunken Degenerate, part six, Downward Spiral of a Drugged Out Degenerate
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As you make your way to the fridge for something to drink, you see that Chickenwing was lying about not having any dope, there's an enormous pile of crystal meth on the triple beam scale on his coffee table, next to a good sized bag of pot. "What the fuck?" you ask, pointing.
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"Alright fine, I was holding out. I just didn't want any company." (In other words, he was right in the midst of a dope-fueled wankathon.) "Hey, that's my last beer asshole!" "That's what you get for lying. Now load up the pipes, I need to get fucked up in the worst kind of way." He follows orders, breaking out his homemade meth bong, and filling it with strawberry kool-aid as you chug the beer. "You wanna hit this first or smoke weed?" "Both." you answer, reaching for the bag to roll a joint. You tell him about your adventures of the past two days while you begin the process of getting thoroughly annihilated.
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A speedfreak is out walking one fine evening... He finds what looks like a homeless person lying in the street, helps him up, and gives him a cigarette. The homeless guy says, "Dude, I'm a genie. And since you were so kind to me, I'll give you three wishes." Of course the Tweaker immediately says, "I want a big bag of meth!" The genie says,"Okay no problem!" POOF, the bag appears! They prepare some thick long white lines, load up the trusty pipe, and share it between the two of them. The next morning the genie asks "What's the second wish?", "I want TWO big bags of meth", says the speedfreak. "Okay," says the genie. POOF! And they prepare it and snort it and smoke it all up between the two of them. The genie asks, "And the third wish?" "I want FOUR big bags of meth!" POOF!! So, they prepare lots of really big lines and smoke lots and lots of really big pipeloads, and once again share it between the two of them. Much later the genie gets up and says, "Okay, it's time for me to go." The genie takes a couple of steps, pauses, turns around and says, "Okay, just one more wish."
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Sometime later, possibly as long as a week but at least three or four days, you have no way of knowing for sure, you're shaken awake after briefly passing out in the recliner. It's Wal-Mart girl doing the shaking, which makes no sense because you're pretty sure you never left Chickenwing's place. Nope, this is his smelly chair all right, in the corner of his filthy living room. What the hell is she doing here?
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You vaguely remember a guy you never met before stopping by at some point. Somehow, you had managed to talk him out of two hits of acid and a tab of ecstasy, putting the bill on Chickenwing's tab, probably not the smartest idea after smoking ice continuously for days on end, but at that point you were way beyond caring, you just wanted a different kind of buzz. But you don't remember any other visitors over the course of this latest massive drug binge, it was just you and Chickenwing, the radio, the overflowing ashtrays, and the steadily declining mountain of crystal meth on the table. If it wasn't for the whole shaking you awake thing, you could almost convince yourself that she was just another weird hallucination, but hallucinations can't touch you, you know this much. So just where the fuck did this bitch come from, and more importantly, why was she once again fucking up your sleepytime?
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"Just where the fuck did this bitch come from?" Chickenwing has just now appeared in his bedroom doorway, looking about like you feel. "Karen? She's my upstairs neighbor. Why, do you guys know each other?" "In a manner of speaking." Karen pipes up, looking at you curiously. "Bet you thought you'd never see me again huh? How have you been?" "Lousy." you answer, standing up on legs that aren't quite steady from too many drugs and not enough food. "I need a shower." Without another word you strip off your clothes as you walk towards the bathroom, then climb into the shower and stand under the warm water for half an hour or so until you start to feel like you may be able to face the world again.
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When you emerge from the bathroom, naked except for the towel around your neck, Karen (she will always be Wal-Mart girl to you, never Karen) is cutting up lines of Bolivian Marching Powder on a mirror. From the looks of them, they've already had a couple each while you were showering. Fuck it, you think to yourself, may as well go for broke. You put your pants on and join them, snorting up line after line, until suddenly everything goes black.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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