Wreck speaks:
The night started out subtley as most nights do. A quiet Chicago eve at the neighborhood bar. The wind was warm and little white lights flickered in the background. Cut to the chase - I got wasted and ended up alone wandering the streets of Sheridan Park for some reason looking to buy crack. I've never smoked crack. I've never been a big fan of drugs. I've never, to my knowledge, wandered the ghetto soliciting drugs.
Here are the details of the night that I can recall - I found a crackhead. I gave him my purse and said 'take what you need'. He gave me a crack rock. I freaked out and took the recently purchased crack rock and threw it in a dumpster. I found my best friend's house and Doomsday answered the door. I proceeded to tell her the events of the evening, which apparently included a make-out session with an old Indian cabbie.
The next morning the crack addict, who had acquired my phone in the evenings happenings began calling my fiance and mother asking for $80 to get my phone back to me. I called Sprint and cancelled my phone. I will never, as far as I know, try to buy crack again.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment