CRANK

(Somebody not long ago asked me to put this up if I could find it. Don't remember who, but I bet it was and AHA fan. Those fuckers LOVE reading about loser idiots. Anyway, I found it:)


I woke up from a 2 day crash after a 4 day super-crank blitz. That's basically what I was doing then, mainlining BADASS meth and fucking the whole world up in a
whirlwind, then a crash and burn for a couple days. Repeat process. Kept
the habit up by selling weed. Not a bad deal, partying half the week and
sleeping the rest, other than that shit will kill you in a pretty short
time. Anyway, I woke up from my last blitz/crash with the usual crank
hangover: your head is full of dull painful cobwebs, you're so fucking
hungry that you're nauseous, but you make yourself eat half a Lipton
Cup-a-Soup 'cause you know you're not gonna eat again for a week. Once
you do that first bang food is even more repulsive. No wonder I weighed
in at a buck thirty five or so. I forced the noodles and broth into my
gullet and washed it down with a beer. Now, then, where did my drunk,
skitching ass hide the stash before I smoked three joints and passed out?
Ah, here it is, a brand-new 8-ball bottle next to the pennies and nickles
and pocket funk under a couch cushion. Now, here's what my dumb ass had
forgot---I had bought that 8-ball in Dallas while I was all fucked up and
didn't know how stout it was. I was up to doing half a gram a bump of the
local shit, so that's what I dumped into the spoon. It puffed completely
clear with just a couple drops of water then made the entire room smell
like ether. Oh, yeah. This was gonna be good. I sucked that pretty shit
into my trusty 26 gauge without a little ball of cig filter, it was so
clean. Registered a little squirt of blood, pushed mostly clear stuff
straight into my artery. HEAR IT COMES! That hot invigorating rush that
starts in your throat and tongue then moves thru your head and then your
body. Wait a minute, this is too...awwkkk...I can't breath, the rush is
too intense, I choke hard as it hits my throat, I'm trying hard to get
the needle out before I hurt myself because my muscles are tightening up,
the rush moves to my head and I lose my vision, it looks like I'm peering
thru a fly's lens, all segmented, I feel myself going into a header off
the couch 'cause my muscles are pulling me into a ball, I feel the needle
jab into gristle as I hit the living room carpet. I'm now in a forced
fetal position only my ass is in the air and my face is pushed hard into
the carpet. I'm blind, I can't breathe, sweat is flying out every pore
and I can actually hear my heart trying to pump it's way out of my chest.


I don't know how long that shit went on, but at some point I remember
thinking, 'Dude, your heart's gonna give up on this shit. You're alone in
a fucked-up trailer in Keene, TX. You don't have a telephone. The trailer
park is deserted, it's the middle of a work day. This is fucked up.
Embarrassing. They'll find you with your dumb ass in the air and your
face smashed into permanent carpet burn and a bent needle jabbed almost
thru your elbow like a fag junky who got butt-fucked to death.'