My Drug Dealer
My Drug Dealer
One plate, no cocaine, NO MAS! I have licked the plate clean, NO MAS. Four empty baggies lie scattered across my desk, no powdery residue, I have licked the bags clean, TERMINAR. Why am I mixing in Espanol------I AM FUCKED UP..... Perhaps I should check the dirty floor for a couple rocks that slipped off my Hors d’ oeuvres like plate of powder or went sky-diving out of my rapidly declining nostrils. No, I already checked the ground hours ago, all I found was some old White Cheddar Popcorn. I’m so stupid. Why can’t I be more responsible? White cheddar and the white lady look so similar next to each other, I should know better. Maybe if I had a magnifying glass it would help in my floor searching, good idea, write that down Luke. Ok, never-mind all that. Time to call my dealer......
Ring Ring Ring Ring no answer, I hang up and try again, no answer. Fuccccck!!! I leave a voicemail sounding like a heart-broken teenage girl wondering why her boyfriend won’t pick up? I am pathetic and I know it, no fucks given at the moment though. Am I dialing the correct number? He has two or three....i will try them all. No dice. I glance over towards my bed and see a naked women, she has been sleeping for hours, I nudge her----she stirs, she is alive, thank god. Hopefully, she does not wake up and start talking to me, I dislike her, plus I don’t want to give her anymore cocaine presents. Gotta figure out how to get her out of here. My phone rings, I answer, my drug dealer is on the way. I owe him money, I lie and say I have it, no worries I'll convince him to front me an 8ball.
Up and down my driveway I pace in anticipation of his arrival. Where is he? Should I call him again? No, don’t call him, you will seem desperate. Luke you are desperate, I think to myself....He pulls up in a Lexus I no doubt helped pay for with my habit, I open his car door, I am a gentlemen! Maybe, I should’ve gotten him flowers or perhaps rolled him up a blunt? Am I courting my drug dealer? We do some weird hand dap/hand shake thingy that I fail miserably to execute correctly. He tells me I look like SHIT, I tell him his Baby Momma looks like shit, we laugh and start walking back inside like two young lovers holding hands frolicking through a meadow. I treat this dude better than any girl I've ever dated. I don’t love him more than any of these unlucky women in my life, but I do LOVE COCAINE more than each and every one of them.
He comes inside. He wants liquor. We take a couple of shots, he slides me the bag....i already have a straw I've been carrying around like a sword in my back pocket. I snort, I feel better. He asks for the cash, I don’t have it. I give him another shot and make up a lie about the cash being sent to my pay-pal later in the day. Not sure if he buys my bullshit or not, I give him another shot. He says he will be back later to collect. I tell him I will cook him dinner, I am such a gentleman. Before he finishes drunkenly stumbling down the driveway, my dealer turns to me and says “I’m gonna pray for you Luke.” What does he mean? His words catch me off guard, I start thinking.... Maybe, I should be praying instead of calling my drug-dealing preacher all the time.
I float back inside and head towards my bedroom----I am high and invincible again. It would be nice to feel like this 24 hours a day, I am happy. To my chagrin, the naked stripper is still on my bed when I get back. Luckily I’ve already called her an Uber. Her skimpy clothes are thrown around my cracked out looking room, I wake her up, “time to go” I say. She wants to have sex, I am not in the mood. I will always choose cocaine over sex, every-time. The thought of her bombarding me with more stories of her fucked up childhood is not something I'm willing to suffer through today. Her Uber arrives, Thank God----maybe he is listening to my prayers. Maybe, I should pray more, write that down Luke my mind says.
She is gone, I have slipped the Uber driver a 20 spot to ensure he does not turn the car around and bring her back. Back in my room I frantically re-open my sack of yack, some chunks spill on the floor, wish I had a magnifying glass, did I write that down? I’m now on all fours crawling around like an infant in search of his pacifier. I find my pacifier, it is a rock of cocaine-----, I look up to place the coke back on my Hors d’oeuvre plate, I see a picture of my Mom starting at me from my desk. She feels alive again and is looking right at me. This won’t work, I place her picture face down. Hopefully she has only been up in heaven paying attention to my brother and sister these past few days, I never want her to see me like this. When is my dealer coming back? Maybe I should PRAY!?