My cocaine addiction definitely cost me, and my friends more than we'd ever imagine. It was my first year of high school when i was introduced to cocaine. One of my closest friends dad was a major drug dealer. Unfortunately that choice ended up killing his only son. It all started one day when we were searching threw his closet for money and drugs. To our surprise we found kilos of cocaine instead.
This was our first mistake, we opened the first key and pinched about twenty grams,and didn't ad cut. This was my first time getting wired i didn't Even really no what it was all about until it was to late. After pinching the cocaine and doing a few lines we took the cocaine to another friends house. It was Friday night and me and seven of our close friends started getting wired. We stayed up talking and rambling for 48 hrs. Afterword's i went home and slept it off.
the first month we kept the cocaine abuse typically to the weekends, but the heavy amounts we were doing led up to daily use. I remember waking up and the only thing on my mind was cocaine. We'd all meet at my friends house early in the morning to get wired before school.
At this point we were all doing allot of cocaine, and the addiction started to take over. The first thing we did was cut the original eight friends down to four. Thus leaving more cocaine for us. Obviously cocaine became more important than our friends, It was the only thing we cared about. The only thing we weren't prepared for was the supply of cocaine to run out.
How long could you keep pinching kilos before the stolen weight becomes an issue. Not to long his dad started catching on and hid the cocaine from his son. Though we had a good feeling were it was. His father had a second car he never drove it was always parked in the drive way. After months of cocaine use this hardly was going to stop us. So we came up with a plan, and later that evening followed threw.
It was 3:00 am in the morning a friend dropped the four of us of at our friends house . We had four crow bars and a hunger for cocaine like no other. We all propped our crow bars in the gap between the end of the trunk at the start of the bumper. One on each side and two in the middle. At this point we all stood on the hood ready to jump on the positioned crowbars. Keep in mind we didn't Evan know if the drugs were there. Cocaine didn't care it was worth the chance. I remember the count down one, two, three, and jump. Immediately the truck popped open, and the alarm was activated.
to our delight we saw three black brief cases. Our friend grabbed one and we darted to our get away way car which was waiting. we were freaking out we didn't expect the alarm. My friend was freaking out explaining what we had to do. Get home hide the drugs get undressed and ready to pretend nothing happened. He kept saying my dads gonna kill me, will never pull this off .
though he was right as soon as we got in the phone was ringing.We blew it of for a while, we knew it was his dad. We were scared shit less. Imagine five jonesing mother fuckers sweating bullets anticipating god only know's what. we didn't Even have much time for a cigarette , and a plan before the head lights were pulling up...........................
you can imagine it was an awkward position to try to recover the drugs. He still was an adult and we were kids, and drugs are illegal .
before we saw the headlights we came up with our plan of attack. We shut off all the lights in the house, and got into are boxers. We also had blankets and pillows to make it look as we were sleeping. Are plan was to act stupid as if we never left the house. we also never answered the phone. In the hopes this would add credibility to the sleeping excuse.
Immediately the tension grows, and the anticipated knock on the
door begins. My friend answered the door to are friends father. he was rapped in a blanket in his boxers yawning acting as if he'd just been woken up. Keep in my mind it's almost four o clock in morning. He invited his father in and mentioned Larry was sleeping in the den on the couch. The setting appeared as if we were all asleep. Larry's dad is about 6ft 6 inches and very intimidating. He went over to his son a said his name sternly. Larry looked up with a yawn, and said whats up. His dad grabbed him by the hair, and said don't give this line of shit come outside i need to talk to. If only Larry's father was smart enough to hide his drugs and the fact that he was a dealer.This never would of happened. Obviously as a parent he certainly wasn't portraying the right image to his son. not only that but years later it would be the cause of his death.
In fear of what might happen we grabbed the briefcase, and took a kilo out and hid the briefcase.After everything we went threw we weren't coming out empty handed. We imagined Larry would be coming in any minute demanding it back. We were right Larry came in he was really pail i can only imagine the talk him and his dad had. Keep in mind i was 16 and Larry was two years younger. Our friend came back inside and stated he needed the drugs back,or his dad was gonna kill um. And stressed his dad also threaten him with military school. we handed Larry the briefcase and he left with father.
After all this we were ready to start doing lines. We dumped about an ounce out on this beautiful picture of a sail boat, and filled all of are bullets to the top. A bullet is a device that always you to bumps discreetly especially when your sick of waiting for your next line to be offered .
Being three months into the habit a line for any of us was at least 1/4 gram per line. After a bunch of lines we started outlying a sailboat picture with cocaine. Every mast, line and detail was over laid in cocaine it took a bout an hour it was a master piece. When we were done we snorted it piece by piece by piece. At this time we were all probably snorting about 3- 5 grams a day a piece. We also made a decision to each keep a personal ounce a piece. And stash the rest for for safe keeping.
I was always wired it seemed except at night during the school week. My friends mother had multiple cirrhosis it was very sad, but due to her condition she had mass quantities of sleeping pills,, and zanex.We stole these to help sleep and cut the edge down. I always tried to sleep every night In my mind it made me feel i was in control. I obviously wasn't if i was taking more drugs just to sleep, and appear normal. This became irrelevant when i went to school one day. As soon as i stepped in my homeroom my teacher told me the principal needed to see me. His name was Charley he sat me down and told me due to my lack of attendance i was being expelled. He called my parents and they picked me up. My parents are very naive about drugs, i told them the pot i was smoking caused this and they believed it.
My punishment was i had to attend a military school the next year to make it up. I went to assumption it was a private military school in Windsor Canada. I graduated from high school a year late because of my drug addiction as well. Cocaine was definitely more important than an education, and definitely more important than friends. On the bright side i had a long summer of partying ahead. And at this point we were the life of every party. As long as we had cocaine it seemed there wasn't any party we could attend.
It was an easy month before we had seen Larry again. Except for the phone calls we'd receive about the kilo of cocaine he wanted. We were sticking to our story. Later on he eventually gave up and came over one Friday night when we were throwing a party. My friends mom lived at her boyfriends, and this always gave us a place to party. Being a lot young and not having the access to the life we had the woman, drinking, and parties he dropped the matter for entertainment purposes
This put us in a peculiar spot because we wanted to get wired, but claimed we didn't have any. We all decided to confess, and return 1/2 of the drugs it was down to an easy 12-16 ounces by now. We ended up giving him half back. We knew he'd get us wired, and we were right. It seemed everything was back to normal. serious partying, and drinking.
Cocaine is what introduced me into sex, and probably was the start of my bad attitude toward woman. the first time i got a blow job it was because of cocaine. I asked a girl friend if she wanted to get wired. She was very popular and two grades higher than me. She agreed and i took her to my friends mom bathroom. I was not't Evan think a bout sex. Just getting away from every body that would leach on and waste my cocaine supply.
After I got wired we were bullshitting and she started talking about sex and how horny it got her. The next thing i new she was giving me head. After nutting we started doing more lines.
Later that evening she approached me and asked if i wanted to spend the night with her at her friends house. I agreed and lost my virginity that night. It was phenomenal the sex lasted for ever she was very sexy and experienced, and in my opinion had one of the top five racks in our high school. After this experience i became pretty popular with the woman. This is were i learned the expression coke whore, our bag whore.
The only thing we didn't realize but sharing all this blow with our new friends was taking a dent in our supply. We also didn't have an idea of how to get more.
Larry did he never seemed to mind stealing his dads drugs no matter what the consequences were. And once again despite the cost our pain we'd cause. Cocaine was more important.
Eventually the cocaine ran out, depression and withdrawals started taking over. We were all going crazy and decided to pull another heigh-st on his father. I can't express the hell we all went threw when the lines ran out. Terrible shakes cold sweats, and sleepless nights and serious urges of self mutilation. At this point I'd have traded my soul for cocaine, and I wasn't even seventeen yrs old.
We weighted until my friends father left the house one afternoon. We assumed the drugs were in his fathers safe in his bedroom, and we kicked in the door and grabbed it. Realizing now the safe was far two heavy for the three of us to move it. We called a few more friends to help us out. It took Six of us to even move it, and we got out of the house and into a friends car. The only problem was getting it open, and we didn't even think about this until we got the safe home. We tried the obvious crow bars, and sledge hammers. The sight of six young adults trying to get in the safe was a funny sight. At this point we came up with a brilliant idea . We decided to weight until late that evening to carry on our last attempt.
Before evening came we were face to face with our friends father. I remember he was so pissed and his son was Playing stupid avoiding his father who was trying to get him in the car. My friend just kept dodging and running his old man was overweight, and way out of shape. My friend wasn't giving up, and new the safe was well hidden. At this point nothing could stop us from opening this safe. We could almost see the cocaine, and there was nothing that would stop our plan.
Finally night fall came, and our plan was to go downtown Birmingham to a high rise parking garage and drop the safe from a ten story building. It was the parking plaza for the 220 Merrill street hotel Downtown Birmingham Michigan. We finally got it two the top of the parking garage, and me Larry and our other friend headed to the bottom making sure no cars were coming. The parking garage was three blocks from the police station as well. It was about three O-clock in the morning, and we signaled from the street to our friend up top to drop it.
As it fell it smacked the side of a wall taking a large chunk out, and was headed right for the side walk. When it hit It made a loud crash, and seriously cracked the pavement wide open. Believe it our not it worked and the safe door was now open. At that moment I was so excited we all assumed we were getting seriously wired, and we felt proud of our accomplishment.
The shock came when we looked in side the safe It was full of Important papers like the deed to his fathers house,bar, and boat. Unfortunately no cocaine our cash, and we were crushed after all this drama and pain we were left empty handed. The following day my friend told Larry he had to leave his house. His father called the police, and they spoke to my friends mom. As a minor Larry was forced to return home. His father at this point enrolled his son into military school In Chicago Illinois . This is were Larry stayed for four years, and was introduced to his current dealer. This was my dealer as well threw an introduction from my friend.
The next time I saw Larry was the summer of my graduation in 1985. Larry never changed Like his father his only inspiration was to sell, and steal drugs and free load off friend for a place to live. After years of thievery and drug sales Larry finally got arrested selling LSD at a Grateful dead show. He got bailed out and was re arrested years later. Larry served five years in federal prison up North in Michigan for fleeing his court date.
At this point Larry got seriously addicted to heroin in prison. When he got out he was sickly looking and very gaunt. Desperate and heavily addicted to drugs he actually started ripping of his close friend, and his worst mistake he robbed my dealer who was heavily connected for 10 lbs of Chronic approximately twenty grand worth of drugs. Before this happened he also took me for a hundred dollars on a sheet of bunk acid. His heroin addiction ran his life.
His next robbery was from his dads bar Silos A high class titty's bar his father owned. Larry's father actually called the police and turned him in. The cops got his prints of the crime scene, and were now looking for him to be prosecuted. I was just getting out of college at this time I was twenty four years old. And working at my current job. The next time we crossed paths was at My favorite local pub in Royal Oak Mi. I remember Larry walked in and set next to me he spent his last two dollars on a cup of coffee. Larry was very sick from not having heroin, and was looking like he was close to death. He asked me for a cigarette and I honored his request. After his coffee and cigarette he looked at me and asked me If I would by him a hot bowl of soup, and I refused him.
This memory will always be in bedded in my mind, and I still feel bad I turned away my old friend. I'm unfortunately not as forgiving as most ,and still remembered him ripping me off as if it was yesterday. Amazing this hole thing even happened If his father Only hid his drug career from his kid this never would of happened. I still remember spending the night at his house at fifteen. We'd go into the garage and pinch pounds of weed from hundreds of barrel's. Larry was only fourteen at the time he never had a chance, and his father of all people started the whole process.
A few weeks later Larry was picked up booked and arrested for his second time, and was facing ten years of federal prison. This time he wasn't so lucky. In prison he was recognized by another inmate who was connected threw Chicago. It happened to be the dealers best friend from Chicago, and this guy ended up shanking my friend in the yard. His father started this whole thing, and coincidently his connections he gained in military school was the one who had him killed. The dealer was a son of a famous actor who's identity I'll only reveal in the book.
This was a very hard lesson in life I learned, and I only wish I could go back in time.
I would have bought my friend that bowl soup definitely.
I remember the funeral I was only one of two of his friends that even attended.
His father thanked me for attending, and I respond I hope your happy now.
His look was utter dismay, and I think he realized than it was him that killed his only son .
doobien.com
Cocaine
this is one of the most hilarious stories to be found on this website, if you ask me. the plot is a movie-waiting-to- be-filmed.
(it is also so badly written that it is almost unreadable.)
the misspellings are world-class! like: "heigh-st" for heist! can you believe it?
or how about this killer sentence: "I would have bought my friend that bowl soup definitely."
pearls of culture, for sure. more, please! i say this without irony.
(it is also so badly written that it is almost unreadable.)
the misspellings are world-class! like: "heigh-st" for heist! can you believe it?
or how about this killer sentence: "I would have bought my friend that bowl soup definitely."
pearls of culture, for sure. more, please! i say this without irony.
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Tommy Martyn
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Nice work Doobien. This is a step up. Quite enjoyed it. Here are a few gramar points:
are: "we ARE going to steal the drugs."
our: "This is OUR bag of cocaine."
wrapped: "we wrapped ourselves in blankets"
rapped: "The dj rapped for three hours at the concert"
through: "He is through with drugs now that he's dead."
threw: "The baseball player threw a strike."
embedded: "the fossil was embedded in the soil"
in-bedded: "?"
brief case: "the lawyer pleaded a very brief case."
briefcase: "my papers are in my briefcase."
friends: "I have many friends who do cocaine."
friend's: "My friend's drugs are in the safe."
Just a few of them Doobien, but... when you need people from Pax Acidus to help you with your grammar you know you're in trouble...
are: "we ARE going to steal the drugs."
our: "This is OUR bag of cocaine."
wrapped: "we wrapped ourselves in blankets"
rapped: "The dj rapped for three hours at the concert"
through: "He is through with drugs now that he's dead."
threw: "The baseball player threw a strike."
embedded: "the fossil was embedded in the soil"
in-bedded: "?"
brief case: "the lawyer pleaded a very brief case."
briefcase: "my papers are in my briefcase."
friends: "I have many friends who do cocaine."
friend's: "My friend's drugs are in the safe."
Just a few of them Doobien, but... when you need people from Pax Acidus to help you with your grammar you know you're in trouble...
Last edited by Sloth on Thu Sep 02, 2004 4:06 am, edited 2 times in total.
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mccutcheon
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I know all my Pax Acidus brethren have been waiting in anticipation to hear from one of their more (dare I say) conservative members, so I shall endeavor to make you happy and throw my 2 cents in. 
OK ... first of all, I think it's of no surprise to any one that I think most stories I read here and elsewhere regarding one's drug experiences are about 10% truth and 90% bullshit. People waking up the next day from a cocaine induced night of fun are barely able to remember where they are much less such florid details as snorting powder from a runway model's navel. It's more likely you met a skank and did coke together from a dirty ashtray. But whatever ...
Anyway .. I must confess that I'm inclined to agree wholeheartedly with virtually everything that's already been said. The story was simply to hard to get through due to having so many grammatical errors. Hell, no one's perfect but damn ... doesn't Word have grammar and spellcheck built in?
Along with the ones Sloth pointed out, here are a few things that sparked the ex-teacher in me to rear it's ugly head:
I can't go on. It's just to much and I think you get the picture. It's not just spelling and such but LOTS of run on sentences, redundant word usage, etc.
OK ... first of all, I think it's of no surprise to any one that I think most stories I read here and elsewhere regarding one's drug experiences are about 10% truth and 90% bullshit. People waking up the next day from a cocaine induced night of fun are barely able to remember where they are much less such florid details as snorting powder from a runway model's navel. It's more likely you met a skank and did coke together from a dirty ashtray. But whatever ...
Anyway .. I must confess that I'm inclined to agree wholeheartedly with virtually everything that's already been said. The story was simply to hard to get through due to having so many grammatical errors. Hell, no one's perfect but damn ... doesn't Word have grammar and spellcheck built in?
Along with the ones Sloth pointed out, here are a few things that sparked the ex-teacher in me to rear it's ugly head:
-- Wouldn't it still be the first "kilo"? I didn't think you could conjugate a noun like a verb ... key . kilo. kiloed. Nah.This was our first mistake, we opened the first key and pinched about twenty grams,and didn't ad cut.
-- a lot or some say alotallot
-- ... issue? Before not to long ... Even so we had a ... His father had a second car that he never drove. It was always parked in the driveway.How long could you keep pinching kilos before the stolen weight becomes an issue. Not to long his dad started catching on and hid the cocaine from his son. Though we had a good feeling were it was. His father had a second car he never drove it was always parked in the drive way. "
-- It was 3:00am in the morning. A friend dropped the four of us at our friend's house.It was 3:00 am in the morning a friend dropped the four of us of at our friends house .
-- I just don't know what to suggest here.Cocaine didn't care it was worth the chance.
-- We were freaking out. We didn't expect the alarm. ... Get home. Hid the drugs. Get undressed. Be prepared to pretend nothing happened. He kept saying, "my dad's gonna kill me. We'll never pull this off."we were freaking out we didn't expect the alarm. My friend was freaking out explaining what we had to do. Get home hide the drugs get undressed and ready to pretend nothing happened. He kept saying my dads gonna kill me, will never pull this off .
I can't go on. It's just to much and I think you get the picture. It's not just spelling and such but LOTS of run on sentences, redundant word usage, etc.
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Eman Resu
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Re: Cocaine
wait... I think you're both missing something important here:
hmm.. to the both of you:
quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was 3:00 am in the morning a friend dropped the four of us of at our friends house .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- It was 3:00am in the morning. A friend dropped the four of us at our friend's house.
__
ENDQUOTE
Okay, which friend, who, where, huh?
Did the friend drop you off at HIS house, or at another friend's house? I think a name... ficticious at best is in order here either for the driver or the owner of the house.
hmm.. to the both of you:
quote:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was 3:00 am in the morning a friend dropped the four of us of at our friends house .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-- It was 3:00am in the morning. A friend dropped the four of us at our friend's house.
__
ENDQUOTE
Okay, which friend, who, where, huh?
Did the friend drop you off at HIS house, or at another friend's house? I think a name... ficticious at best is in order here either for the driver or the owner of the house.
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Nick Carraway
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Thanks for your story... now I know better than to become a "bag whore." 
Email: Nick999@alltlel.net
AIM: pedroisthelion
AIM: pedroisthelion
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mccutcheon
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'add' a kilo
drop 'off' at friends house.
and I didn't even read the story, these are just from the comments.
I mean I write scribbles- so I understand and usually like first draft writing, but a spell check would help, except here, where the wrong words he used are actually words. only used wrong.
if this was Jazz it wouldn't be Sun Ra. It would be pfffff.
drop 'off' at friends house.
and I didn't even read the story, these are just from the comments.
I mean I write scribbles- so I understand and usually like first draft writing, but a spell check would help, except here, where the wrong words he used are actually words. only used wrong.
if this was Jazz it wouldn't be Sun Ra. It would be pfffff.
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Tommy Martyn
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Tommy Martyn
- Mile High Club
- Posts: 887
- Joined: Mon May 19, 2003 8:01 am
- Location: a desk
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mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
- Posts: 4996
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
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Tommy Martyn
- Mile High Club
- Posts: 887
- Joined: Mon May 19, 2003 8:01 am
- Location: a desk
Imagine if you will a city in Northern England. It is the a few years off the end of the second millenium. This city is famous for crime and unemployment. The governance of the city is broken up into four metropolitan councils. One of these, Knowsley had topped the national charts for teenage pregnancies and out of wedlock births. Knowsley was not always number one though. It had placed bottom, on spending per child in education, for all of England and Wales. This was my territory. Or rather, it was my territory until I got out.
I left for Cambridge and then carried onto America. I hardly ever bothered to go home. I have exactly four friends in England. Three of them still in Liverpool. The one that has known me the longest did not get out via education. He can barely write and would never dream of reading a book for pleasure. He is big and tough and comes from a big and tough family. There are a million and one stories about his family which need little or no embellishing to make a movie. My favourite, easy one to recount, is the one about his brother spending his wedding night in jail. Now that's a wedding.
On occasion, here in the US, I am asked about my upbringing. To cut the long story short I always say, "Have you seen the movie Trainspotting? Well that describes what my late teens and early twenties were like." Not the drug taking, but the general squalor and sense of never ending failure. In the movie I would have been the bloke who got his TV stolen.
When I go home I always make a point of keeping tabs on Bren. We never talk on the phone and he doesn't write postcards, but he has the kind of schedule that makes it OK for me to just drop in for three or four days unannounced. That we live in different worlds now is obvious. That we have different interests, even more so. What we do have in common is the fact that we both went through the same shit and came through the otherside. For the past 20 years the big fella has earned his living by buying and selling drugs. Don't get excited and think that this is about to turn into a plot outline for an episode of Miami Vice. It was mostly dope. With some E and Speed thrown in.
This visit started off like most of the others. Big hellos to him, the missus and the kids. Bren was a grandad at 32. Then it was off out for the duration. Me on the beer and Bren on spliffs and beer. He lightsone up before he gets out of bed. We went to some very shady pubs and met some very shady characters. Make no mistake, if it wasn't recognised that I was, "with Bren." I would have been scared and with good reason. After a couple of days of this I got into the flow of the half gangster life. It was late and we were back at his house watching the box and making filthy jokes when he got a call. He stopped laughing collected his gear and told me to follow.
We entered an apartment a few hundrred yards away, to be confronted by four faces. Two terrified, one angry and another wrapped in tea towels, which were soaking up blood. The terrified faces belonged to the girls. They were terrified because ten minutes earlier they had been held up wiht a sawn off shotgun. The two girls and the angry guy were made to wait in one room. Mr tea towels was taken into the bedroom he was tied to the bed and asked where the money was. These boys were in the same line of business as Bren. He was not immediately forthcoming so they began to break crockery on his scalp. He directed them to what was on the premises. (Memory wants me to say ten thousand pounds) They took this and then got really angry. Looking round the room they noticed an electric iron. They plugged it in and pullled down his pants. All the while shouting about where the rest of the money was. The guy on the bed was, by this time, trying to crawl inside himself and they brought the iron nearer his balls. They took him at his word and left without making excuses.
Shortly after, we arrived. Let me say right away that I didn't like being there. There was no way that I couldn't stand by Bren. He had helped me so many times in the past (tales for another time) but that didn't stop me thinking that the bad men could come back or our friends the police might have been alerted by the neighbours. We listened to the tale from four perspectives. Then it was decided that the bloke with the bleeding head should go to hospital with his girlfriend.
Now, this is why I always think of this tale as a cocaine tale. Not because they had been selling the stuff but because of the paranoia apparent from those taking the stuff. As soon as the door closed behind the bleeding head, the angry guy told Bren that this was a set up job and that bleeding head had had himself robbed, so he could try and keep the money. He then told Bren that bleeding head might as well check out the beds at the hospital because he was going there for a long stay soon. These were not idle threats delivered in the heat of the moment. It was ugly and even though the drug girlfriend was more than beatiful, all I could think about was being an accessory witness to a murder. It was a compliment to Bren really, that I was taken at face value just because I was his friend.
We left shortly after. I left town the next day. The drug guy was thinking of getting into forged Amex travellers cheques for dollar amounts. He knew I was living in the US. I didn't want him to make me an offer I couldn't refuse. I later heard that a few faces went down for six years in the scam.
And that is my cocaine story.
I left for Cambridge and then carried onto America. I hardly ever bothered to go home. I have exactly four friends in England. Three of them still in Liverpool. The one that has known me the longest did not get out via education. He can barely write and would never dream of reading a book for pleasure. He is big and tough and comes from a big and tough family. There are a million and one stories about his family which need little or no embellishing to make a movie. My favourite, easy one to recount, is the one about his brother spending his wedding night in jail. Now that's a wedding.
On occasion, here in the US, I am asked about my upbringing. To cut the long story short I always say, "Have you seen the movie Trainspotting? Well that describes what my late teens and early twenties were like." Not the drug taking, but the general squalor and sense of never ending failure. In the movie I would have been the bloke who got his TV stolen.
When I go home I always make a point of keeping tabs on Bren. We never talk on the phone and he doesn't write postcards, but he has the kind of schedule that makes it OK for me to just drop in for three or four days unannounced. That we live in different worlds now is obvious. That we have different interests, even more so. What we do have in common is the fact that we both went through the same shit and came through the otherside. For the past 20 years the big fella has earned his living by buying and selling drugs. Don't get excited and think that this is about to turn into a plot outline for an episode of Miami Vice. It was mostly dope. With some E and Speed thrown in.
This visit started off like most of the others. Big hellos to him, the missus and the kids. Bren was a grandad at 32. Then it was off out for the duration. Me on the beer and Bren on spliffs and beer. He lightsone up before he gets out of bed. We went to some very shady pubs and met some very shady characters. Make no mistake, if it wasn't recognised that I was, "with Bren." I would have been scared and with good reason. After a couple of days of this I got into the flow of the half gangster life. It was late and we were back at his house watching the box and making filthy jokes when he got a call. He stopped laughing collected his gear and told me to follow.
We entered an apartment a few hundrred yards away, to be confronted by four faces. Two terrified, one angry and another wrapped in tea towels, which were soaking up blood. The terrified faces belonged to the girls. They were terrified because ten minutes earlier they had been held up wiht a sawn off shotgun. The two girls and the angry guy were made to wait in one room. Mr tea towels was taken into the bedroom he was tied to the bed and asked where the money was. These boys were in the same line of business as Bren. He was not immediately forthcoming so they began to break crockery on his scalp. He directed them to what was on the premises. (Memory wants me to say ten thousand pounds) They took this and then got really angry. Looking round the room they noticed an electric iron. They plugged it in and pullled down his pants. All the while shouting about where the rest of the money was. The guy on the bed was, by this time, trying to crawl inside himself and they brought the iron nearer his balls. They took him at his word and left without making excuses.
Shortly after, we arrived. Let me say right away that I didn't like being there. There was no way that I couldn't stand by Bren. He had helped me so many times in the past (tales for another time) but that didn't stop me thinking that the bad men could come back or our friends the police might have been alerted by the neighbours. We listened to the tale from four perspectives. Then it was decided that the bloke with the bleeding head should go to hospital with his girlfriend.
Now, this is why I always think of this tale as a cocaine tale. Not because they had been selling the stuff but because of the paranoia apparent from those taking the stuff. As soon as the door closed behind the bleeding head, the angry guy told Bren that this was a set up job and that bleeding head had had himself robbed, so he could try and keep the money. He then told Bren that bleeding head might as well check out the beds at the hospital because he was going there for a long stay soon. These were not idle threats delivered in the heat of the moment. It was ugly and even though the drug girlfriend was more than beatiful, all I could think about was being an accessory witness to a murder. It was a compliment to Bren really, that I was taken at face value just because I was his friend.
We left shortly after. I left town the next day. The drug guy was thinking of getting into forged Amex travellers cheques for dollar amounts. He knew I was living in the US. I didn't want him to make me an offer I couldn't refuse. I later heard that a few faces went down for six years in the scam.
And that is my cocaine story.