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Play With Fire, Boy

Play With Fire, Boy

|Views: 261|Likes:
Published by Goo Monserrat
I like the way you tie, boy.
I like the way you tie, boy.

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Published by: Goo Monserrat on Mar 03, 2013
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved


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I had gotten burned. My guy said it was going to be fire and it wasn/t. It was decent at best, but if a single bag didn/t get me there, I couldn/t consider it good. I shot it in the bathroom of White Castle and the pizzeria around the block. After the second shot I ran into Hank, on his way back from copping true fire. Dude, I just did amazing shit. DOWNFALL. I/d heard of it, but never tried. FUCK!!! I just copped some bullshit, Duane Reade stamps. Awww man, yeah, those aren/t too good. Tell me about it. Hank thought for a moment saying well how much do you have? Ah, like five bucks man, why, how much do I need to get one of the DOWNFALL? I mean, try and get about nine bucks, maybe eight, scrounge up ten just in case, I/m gonna go to the city and boost some toiletries and electric razors that I/ll hawk and then I/ll be back here so that we can go in on it together. Alright, call me though, you have my number written down right? Yeah, yeah, I/ll call you. I was determined to try this legitimate fire scag. It was after 10PM on some december friday. I needed roughly five bucks to scrape up, a couple more for a bottle of water and a snack so that being out in the cold drizzle wouldn/t be on an completely empty stomach.This was the first time I panhandled - for heroin. I/d done it before, long ago, when I needed a couple of bucks for the bus or train because I/d spent too much on drugs and party. Pride/ll kill you son. Maybe, I lost most of mine long ago and have been doing fine without it. At the same time, not having panhandled in so long, I forgot how desperate it felt to ask most passerby on the street for charity. A pleading line of excuse me can you spare any change, anything? These people shouldn/t help out a gutter fiend such as I, but some did. The nickels, dimes and quarters started coming in. When 30 minutes had passed, I/d about two dollars, standing there down by Lorimer and Metropolitan since over by Graham it was harder to get donations. I asked a fair young man if he had any change he could spare. Yeah, sure, let me just go in and break this bill. Oh man, thank you so much, seriously! Thank you so much. He came back out with two dollars and handed them to me with a smile. You have yourself a great night man please! You too. A few minutes later I asked another pair of dudes if they could spare any change and one of them asked if I was hungry. Oh hell yes sir. I was going to save this caramel popcorn, but you should have it. God bless I replied as he stretched out his arm with the half full bag. Christ, I almost had the whole five bucks, granted it/d been like an hour, so as stated, not the grandest haul. Good enough. For sure. I still asked some people as I walked by and a couple passed me, of which the girl remarked on how well dressed I was for a panhandler. Yeah, I was wearing my slick black jeans, newish black and neon green Nikes, ancient brown leather jacket and a blue plaid Columbia fleece under that. Fuck you too I muttered as I passed, I wish I was homeless so that I/d have more of an excuse to do what I/m doing. Don/t you judge me, I have ceased to judge others, for the 
most part because everybody judges and if they say they don/t, well they/re lying. It/s how you decide who become your friends, enemies, casual acquaintances. It/s in human nature to judge. But to understand this is to be able to change the naivety of your judgement. Since you don/t know anyone/s story, you are not granted the power of opinion on them. If you judge anyone, judge yourself your honor. And so I continued on to Graham and Metro, ten feet away from the exit of the train station, at this point just in case Hank was done with his mission by now. It was after 11. He/d be done soon enough, I hope. Excuse me miss, can you spare some change? No sorry. Or no reply at all, just them continuing on their ways. One cute shorter girl that came out of the station paused for a second after I asked her and took a lincoln out of her purse. I didn/t immediately see what it was, but thanked her as I thanked all the others and upon realizing that she/d given me about ten times more than the others I shouted out OH THANK YOU SOOO MUCH MISS, HAVE THE BEST WEEKEND, GOD BLESS, god fucking bless. After I/d five bucks more than I needed for my fix, I couldn/t justify panhandling anymore for the night. I went and bought a cliff bar and stood in the Rockaway Parkway bound exit underground warming up some from the wet chill and waiting for my man to come and go to his.Three trains went by and I began to think about if Hank had already returned, me missing him. I said I/d give it another two trains before I headed home. The first one came and went without any sign of him. The second train came and Hank was one of the first to head out, along with another, raggedy and black. His name was Stones, obviously because crack. Hank saw me and said, ahh, good thing you/re here because I completely forgot about calling you, and probably would/ve remembered way too late anyway. Yeah, I figured this/d be easier. Dude, by the way, I managed to get about ten bucks so I can just throw you ten for doing me the favor anyway. Sweet. How much did you manage to round up? Uhhh, like 68 or something. HOLY FUCK!!! You really got that much for shit that was hot? Yeah, I jacked a ton though. We walked down Metro to Humboldt and then from there to Jackson/Kingsland, to the Cooper P/s. Hank asked for my iPhone to call his guy and took about a minute to figure everything. Goddamn, he won/t do me a bundle for that. The project we were going to was all the way in the back and we were a few soggy dogs by the time we got there, and into the stairwell to wait at most five minutes for Hank to see his man. He returned in proper time and guided us down all the way to the first floor of the rear stairwell. He whispered, be the fuck quiet now. He didn/t need to tell me, stairwells always had a paranoid kind of high. He gave me my single bag of DOWNFALL. Smile motherfucker. In haste, we took out our works, and I fixed up my shot upon one of the steps type quick. I ripped off my belt, wrapped it around my left arm, flicked the crook, with a gentle poke the needle fitted easily in. I 
drew back the plunger to watch the blood as it appropriately burst up like a rose into the chamber, mixing with the sweet solution of best poison. And slowly I pushed it down, within seconds the scag rushing through my entire being, instantly warming all including the furthest reaches of my fingertips and toes. No longer was I cold, nor did I care about being wet. I felt as if nothing could do me no wrong, as happiness is in fact a warm gun, you best believe that deary. My eyelids hung heavy as I groaned the most hedonistic satisfied one that anyone could know. Trainspotting was right, orgasms are for pussies and the feeling of a proper shot is unrivaled by anything. I leaned against the wall, flicking the injection site once more and putting away my gear. As I turned to face Hank and Stones, I saw Hank standing there, a triangular shard of broken mirror in right hand, hardly steady as he was still fucked up from before, and left hand with a spike filled to the brim with a couple of bags sticking out of his neck. My eyes widened and immediately I felt as though I should look for a film crew, as this was surely something that/d be done in a movie, or book, or god knows what, I know that if there were a god he would not let people fall to this. I observed curiously as Hank swayed on his already faded self, trying not to miss. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Man, can you be a voyeur to a rock bottom? Gotta be. I was paranoid as a motherfucker despite being righteously blasted and the two of them had mentioned a swift crack smoke after fixing but I couldn/t wait that long, and wouldn/t want to smoke hard while that paranoid anyway. I whispered my thank you to Hank and told him that I was leaving and to be safe. Shard of glass still reflecting his attempt to fix in his neck he said okay, be quiet. He/d had that spike in his next for at least a minute by that time. Motherfuck. The only thing I/d ever known to come close to that was in Hubert Selby Jr/s Requiem For a Dream, when Harry and Ty get locked up in central and they meet a geezer who used up nearly all his veins and wore a bowtie that he could tighten in order to get it right in his neck. Even that didn/t seem to do this justice. Fuck. Still, I did not judge Hank, or tried not to anyway, since the only time he/d gotten skimped bags it wasn/t even his fault. No matter. That scene stayed with me, still does. I left out the front of the building and walked carelessly through the rainy night back to White Castle, where I fixed up another shot, in more peace. I never bought a single thing from them yet they always let me use the bathroom, even five times a day sometimes. I did my thing, I shot the second third of the bag and waited a minute. It hit right on, as it shoulda, and then I did the rest of the bag, myself nearly nodding off as I pricked my arm near the latest injection sites.I left the White Castle in an opiated daze and saw Hank and Stones FUCKED UP, on their way to the train. I went up to them and thanked Hank again for the amazing dope. It was definitely in the top five of all I/ve tried. Top three for 

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