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"You're okay, dude. Just calm down"
Okay.
Yeah. I'm okay.
My breath is slowing down, but my heart is beating faster than ever.
Wiping my hands on my sleeves, there's no fucking end to it.
My stupid, fat "friend" is chuckling now, and I'm getting really annoyed.

"Give me that blunt."

He reaches up to his ear, and slides it out. He hands it to me and I push his cigarette lighter in with my free hand.
Stick the blunt in my mouth, and wait patiently for the lighter to pop out.
A click and I am reunited with someone who has never done me wrong.
Ah, sweet Mary Jane.

Magnificent

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"That's all? You mean to tell me that's it?"

"Yes. Or all we can do out of his sack."

"You sure we can't do one more line? Just one more? One more won't hurt, will it?"

"No, dude. Then they won't come back to us. We can't rip them off too badly."

He starts whining and I tell him to shut up and drive.
Keep your eyes on the road, I say.
The day has just begun.

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"Are we getting the gas card tonight?"

"I don't know about that, dude."

"Don't be such a pussy, dude. Come on."

"Yeah, whatever. I suppose. What about that ring? You still have it?"

"Yeah. Where are we going to sell it? Pawn shop? You're eighteen, right?"

Ugh. You are so fucking stupid, man. So unbearably dumb.

"Nineteen. You see me buying tobacco all the time."

"Whatever. I'm going to go over to my girlfriend's for a little while, then I'll hit you up whenever I'm picking the ring up from my house."

"The ring is in your car."

Open the glove box, it's buried under some type of manual I doubt this fat asshole has ever even glanced at.

"Oh.. right."
Stupid twat.

He lets me know he's dropping me off at my car.
When we arrive I look at the clock on his console before getting out.
Fuck.
Eight thirty.
He says something like "later" but I just ignore him and shut the door.
The words dumbass and jizzrag come to mind.
I really fucking hate that guy.

Eight thirty. Parents usually sleep around nine. I'll have to wait until then.
And even then, I don't want to chance it until ten thirty or eleven.

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My car really does smell horrible.
You don't notice if you spent all morning wallowing in your own filth.
Fuck you.
It happens, alright?

So, I try to take a nap with the windows rolled down, trying to breathe as little as possible.
It isn't working. Looks like I'm sitting here in a car that reeks like puke until either ten, or whenever the fat kid shows up.

Balls.
Balls, I say.

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Because I have a key to the house, it makes breaking into my parent's place that much easier. However, easy as it may be, it's still fucking frightening. What do I say if Dad wakes up to go to work, or god forbid, just to get a glass of fucking water?
It's a frighteningly dumb thought; getting caught in your own house.
Whatever. Making my way towards the door, I picture nine lines all neatly separated and chopped up. Real horrorshow.

It will all be worth it very soon, now.

The key enters the lock. Slowly the key turns; a muffled click.
Admission.
This is it.
Now or never.

Stepping quietly into the dark house, I peer ahead into the living room and hallway through the shadows of my past home. The door gently shuts behind me, my hand keeping the knob turned until the door is in place to avoid the click.
My parents are light sleepers.

Slowly and quietly I make my way through the darkness. Through the living room, and take a right just before the hallway that leads to the master bedroom. This puts me in the kitchen.
Upon immediate arrival of the kitchen, I take another right, down a completely pitch black hallway that leads to the garage.
Dragging my finger tips across the walls for guidance, my left hand blindly gropes for the doorknob.
Aha.
Success.
The door opens silently, and I slip through quickly, and shut it quickly behind me.
My hand immediately locates the light switch. I have to be careful to flip the right switch. Opening the garage would make some noise that would royally fuck me.

Snatch her brown purse off the wall, and dig for the wallet.
Remove the gas card, and five dollars.
Slip the purse back onto the rack on the wall, and with one hand on the doorknob, I flip the light switch, and go back out the way I came.

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Sitting in my car, I realize I barely notice the smell anymore. Of course, as soon as this comes to mind, the smell makes itself apparent once more.
It's pitch black in here. Not because I'm in a secluded place, and it's dark out side.
No, and again no. The reason it's so dark, is because I stole someone's tarp, so I could sleep in my car without being disturbed.
You finally manage to fall asleep in your car, and around three in the morning, some asshole cop decides to tap on your window, shine a light in your face and ask you what you're doing. As if it isn't completely fucking obvious you were asleep.
Fucking pigs.

So, I stole a tarp from a friend's apartment complex, and here I am. Waiting for the stupid fat kid to get here, so we can get down to some fucking business. Forty dollars in gas plus the gold ring that my fat friend has to offer is worth an eight ball in our dealer's eyes. Of course it will be a shitty fucking eight ball, but pawning that ring and forty dollars wouldn't probably even cover a teenager. You might end up with seventy bucks in the end, if you're lucky. You'd do a gram, and be able to afford a sack, maybe. With a ball, you can sell a shitty gram for sixty bucks, and buy an ounce.
However, I know that won't happen.
No, not with that fat piece of shit I'm stuck doing business with.
If the asshole even shows up.
But I know he will. He loves cocaine too much to pass up an opportunity such as this.
I would kind of almost feel bad for getting him hooked, but that's life.
And he's a dickhead.
And he's fat.
And I just don't like him.
His breathing offends me. Sickens me, even.
Fucker.
Prick.
Asshole.
Jizztrap.
Cunt.
Fat.
More choice words come to mind.

Dildo.

A knock at my passenger window, startles me from deep in thought. The tarp is pulled up over the side of the car, so he can maneuver his fat ass into the car.
Speak of the devil.

"Hey, man"

The door shuts, and the tarp hangs over the side of the door.

"Hi"

"Did you get the gas card"

"Yeah. You got the ring?"

"Of course"

"Good. We taking your car?"

He's holding his sleeved hand over his mouth. He doesn't say anything, but just nods, and gets out. Locking my car, I follow suit. Stay behind, so I can fix the tarp over the car, and he has his running by the time I reach him.
And he already has the phone to his ear. I didn't even have to tell him to give the dealer a call.
And we are on our way.

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"Diamond Shamrock? No, it's a Valero card. What? Same thing? ... Wait, you mean, they still have Diamond Shamrocks? Hmm. Odd. Where? By the hospital? Subway? ... and you take a left at the stop sign? ... Okay. ... Right. ... Ohh! You mean over there by Dunkin Doughnuts? Fuck yeah, I know where that is. Hell yeah. Bet. ... Peace"

God damn it, I fucking hate this stupid jackass.

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I'm breaking up the lines while we're driving, with a shitty razor that's rusted as all hell, on top of a CD case for some band I've never heard of before. Chipping away at the tiny pebbles.

"Try not to get any plastic shavings in that stuff"

"Shut the fuck up and drive. I know what I'm doing."

"Make 'em big"

"Alright."

I take the baggie out of my pocket, and untie knot the corners of the bag have formed to keep it nice and sealed.
As I sprinkle some more on the CD case, the stupid fag hits a bump, and some of it fucking SPILLS!

"God damn, it dude! Watch your fucking driving. Fucking stupid shit."

Searching the dark floorboard for the few pebbles that dropped, I give up in favor of the lines in my lap. Almost looks like a half gram for two lines.
Fuck it. He said he wanted them big.

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I might have fucked up. Again.
Might have been too much.
Fuck that. It was definitely too much.
Oh, shit.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, god damn.

Every symptom I was feeling earlier is amplified. My body is numb, but not in a good feeling kind of way. The kind of way when it feels uncomfortable to move any muscle in my body. Pins and needles to a new extreme. Bollocks to this, I say.
My breath is weakening. My heart rate is speeding up. I'm sweating and my mouth's bone dry.

Hospital, I tell him.

Nothing.
I say it louder.

"Take me to the hospital."

"What? Are you fucking with me?"

"No. I can't move. Get me to a fucking hospital."

"Shit dude, I'll take you to a hospital. It may take us thirty minutes to get there, and I'm not walking you in, but I'll take you up there and dump you on the sidewalk if you really need to go."

Oh fuck.
Oh shit.

I need something I can"t talk right, with my mouth like this.

"Water!"

"I don't have any water, dude."

"Water!"

"Ah, shit. Look, I can take you to water, or I can take you to the hospital, but if you need water we're going to have to turn around."

"Water, dickhead! Water!"

"Fine, god damn it! Fine!"

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He drags me out of the car, my arm stuck to my chest like I'm retarded, or something.

"You wanted water?"

He's having trouble dragging me on the damp grass. He drags me about seven feet over to the side of this house, and he drops me there, leaving my vision.
I hear a squeak, followed shortly by the sound of water rushing. What the fuck?

"You have all you want, pal."

And then the asshole sprays water into my face!
..and let me tell you, that shit is fucking incredible.

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Coughing and gagging, I've had too much. I start throwing up, and he's trying to pick me up and drag me by my legs.

"Don't drag me, dude. Don't drag me."

He ignores me, as he drops me by his car, and opens the door.
He picks me up, struggling, and forces my limp, wet body into the vehicle.
He slams the door, and I lean against it, breathing heavily.
I open my eyes to notice.

SLAM!

He buckles his seat belt, and starts the car as quickly as he can, fumbling with not only the keys in the ignition, but the belt.

"This isn't your house."

"No fucking duh."

"Who's house is it?"

"Fuck if I know"

"You left the water running"

He doesn't say anything. He just pulls out and drives away.

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"I'm fucking dead, man" I'm fucking dead."

I'm puking all over my shirt, but it's all clear. It's just water and stomach acids, and it only comes out in tiny spurts.

And suddenly it's fucking freezing. Why the fuck did he have to pour water all over me? Fucking dickhead.
Leaning against the window, my eyes sealed shut.
My body freezing.
Pins and needles.

Every part of me is filled with discomfort.

Please, stop. I get it, okay? Haha... I learned my lesson...

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"Dude! You can't go out like this!" he says "think of the last time!"

and i sed

fuck the last time. I'll repeat action as much as I want.

i think..

or something like that

Or

Maybe I'm just making it up?

But seriously.
I think I'm dying this time.

Wait. Rethink my situation logically. This caN▓T BE I-

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"Alright seriously, dude. Stop. It's fucking annoying."

And the moral is; --/--;-:--;-;-;▓▓-▓/?/!!

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This is where chapter two abruptly ends, for no reason whatsoever.