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I - can't t h i n k ┘┘┘┘ ... ...
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At some point, I blacked out. I don't even remember puking, but there it is. Vomit.
All over my legs.
All over my car...
Ah, shit. This is going to be fun.
Burping, I turn on the car. The keys were already in the ignition.
The loud static of the radio rips through the silence. My hand quickly meets the volume knob/power button to stifle the horrible sound.
My head is ringing. I hate it when it rings like this.
My vision is blurry. Fading in and out of double. It will clear up soon enough Push my foot down on the brake peddle, and put this piece of shit into drive. I need to find a hose, or s o m e t h i n g . -
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The first thing I've had to be grateful about in a long time. God, how long has it been?
Too long, it feels like.
All this time spent sleeping in my car, and I still haven't gotten used to it.
I don't think you can, really.
If you actually manage to get to sleep in your seat, when you wake up every muscle, every bone aches with every single movement.
I feel sick. I feel light headed. There's a tingling running up my spine. My face feels hot.
Pulling the car over past the shoulder, and onto the grass, the car comes to a stop, and the door opens. The seat belt is the only thing restraining me back, as I lean forward and gag.
And gag And gag And gag And gag And nothing comes out Just painful gagging.
Eyes watering, I shut the car door and keep driving.
Rubbing the water out of my eyes as I fight to correct myself into the proper lane. What's the fucking speed limit around here, a n y w a y ?
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"Oh fuck, dude! What's that smell?"
"Don't worry about it"
"Can we just take my car?"
Excellent. This means less gas that I have to pay for. And I don't even have to drive.
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"Sleeping in my fucking car. That's about what I've been up to."
"Shit, dude. That sucks. Your parents still refusing to let you in?"
"Fuck, I don't know. Haven't talked to them."
"Maybe I can talk my dad into letting you stay at my place. We have a guest room, and all"
"That'd be nice."
A bed. You don't know how welcoming that thought is after sleeping in your car, until it's happened. Even though I hate the fucker, the idea is still very appealing. Just thinking about a bed, dude...
"So, what's on the docket for today?"
"Did you get the gas card?"
"No, I can't do that until it's night time."
"How did you plan on getting in?"
"I have an old spare key I told them I lost, but never did."
"Good thinking"
"Yeah. I thought so."
"Do you think you could get it tonight?"
"Maybe. It's all according to the whims of the great magnet."
"What the fuck does that mean?"
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."
"You're fucking weird, dude."
"Did you make any calls yet?"
"No, I was waiting on you."
"How sweet. Let me see the cell phone."
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"No, god damn it. I'll tell you when we make a sale."
"Call Cody"
"I don't know Cody's number"
"Well, fucking call someone"
"Eat shit, you chubby dickhead."
"What?"
"Don't worry about it. Your phone is ringing. Could be an opportunity"
As he answers the cell phone, the words PIG and FUCK come to mind. I fucking hate this asshole. But I like his gas.
And I like the fact that he does all of his business with me present. Even though it's my business, I need his phone.
"Alright. Cool. Uh-huh. We got your back man, we just need to come pick up the money. Alright. KFC? The one by the hospital, or... ?"
His high pitchfat voice he's conductingmy business with. Sends a chill down my spine. Pisses me off. Can't quite explain it.
"Okay. Fifteen minutes? Yeah. Yeah. See you then"
He hangs up the phone, and pulls over to the shoulder.
"We got a sale"
He cuts sharply to the right, and pulls a U turn, driving back the way we came. I can almost already feel my palms starting to sweat profusely.
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"Yeah, dude. Just chill."
"Text him again"
"Fuck dude, settle down. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't"
This guy is starting to creep me out. I almost feel bad, knowing I'm the one who did this to him. Fuck him, though. The fat dick.
"We need some fucking coke!"
"No, we need some fucking profit. I'm telling you, dude. We need to hold back on this shit. Make some money off it."
He sighs his exaggeratedly stupid sigh, and whines out an "okay" I already know he plans on going back on it.
Fucker has no will power.
None whatsoever.
And as he's snorting his lines, I'll sit there and watch him. I'll come to the conclusion that I'm not going to make any money off it myself, and he's just going to snort it all up, so I'll have some, too. The cycle will just repeat itself.
The idea was to take a couple of lines out of each sale, or "opportunity" as I like to call them. Over time this would add up to half a gram, or a gram that we could sell. After selling a few grams, we could buy an eight ball. That's when profits would really start to boost.
But this fat stupid dick keeps snorting it all before we have this opportunity.
And I'm not going to sit around and get nothing out of it.
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"I don't fucking know."
"He said he'd be here."
"I know what he said. In fact, I'm the one whom he said it to."
"It's been thirty minutes! He said he was right around the corner."
"God damn it. Your whining isn't helping anything in the least. It's only pissing me off"
"You need to get that gas card tonight, dude."
"Will you get off my nuts already?"
"I'm just saying"
"Yeah, whatever. Just chill the fuck out."
This has to be the only Wendy's on the face of this planet with a black Wendy. I'm not trying to be racist, or anything, but I've never seen a black person with red hair. It just isn't common. My mind wanders. I'm zoning out. Still somewhat hung over. Still very much aggravated. I just wish the asshole would show up.
I could really use a line right now. And suddenly, as I'm staring off to my right, his car pulls up. SUV, rather. A red one. He looks me in the eye and nods.
"Alright dude, give me the money"
He forks over the sixty dollars, and I stuff ten into my pocket as I get out and walk to the red SUV.
Opening the back door, I get in to see that my dealer is back with his old girlfriend.
The one who kicked him out.
The one who crashed his car.
The one who called the police on him, forcing him to flush two eight balls worth of cocaine. That's not peanuts.
"What's up?"
His hand snakes its way around the seat, a little blue baggie between his fingers.
"It's broken up, but it's the same shit"
"That's fine."
Less work for us. Less work for me, specifically. Pluck the baggie from his fingers, and replace it with fifty dollars.
"Pleasure doing business with you"
"Bet"
Bet. A term I never fully understood, but whatever.
I open the door, and get out of the car. Fist closed tightly around my prize.
"You got that blunt rolled?"
"Right here."
"Good. Let's head towards the wal-mart. I'll divvy out some lines.
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I let out a loud snort, and start coughing and gagging, as the drip makes its way down my throat. Oooh.
Gotta love smackin' that white bitch around, I tell ya.
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And almost as quickly as it was said, I'm sucking another line in through my right nostril. My head is light.
And at first; nothing. Just the burn.
and suddenly there it is
like always
And before long I'm sweating my ass off.
I've only had two lines, and I'm sweating my balls off.
Oh fuck. I may have gone too far.
I might have fu c k e d u p .
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