The quest for crack.

OK, so being part of the LGBT community, I am good friends with this lesbian couple. Let's call them Cindy and Deb (not their real names). I met Cindy at work, and then later I met her partner Deb. Cindy is a very straight-laced, formal-type lady. Very proper in all respects. Most definitely the level-headed half of the partnership. Deb, on the other hand, is quite the party-girl and the raunchier of the couple. Deb is the one that enters belching contests and calls me up when she wants to get fucked up and go out and party.

Anyways, Deb calls me up one night. We go out and get plastered, as usual. On the way home, she says she wants some crack. Yup, crack rock, crack cocaine. I am more of the straight-laced type myself -- I've never done any _hard_ drugs before. Sure, I've smoked a few bowls and a coupl'a joints; tried shrooms one night in a drunken stupor (Bob, if you're reading this, I always had a hell of a time at your parties!); hell, I've even done ecstasy (I did three pills at once and all it seemed to do was make me thirsty); but never anything more serious.

So, she wants crack. We drive around the 'hood, checking out the various characters strolling the streets after dark. She apparently has experience picking out dealers on the street. She hangs out of my window, and asks this guy if he "has any." He comes over and gets in the back seat of my car (more on this later). This guy is a typical tweaker. Black guy. Average looking, but very skinny. Face twitches. Wearing a heavy winter jacket when it's warm out.

Deb asks him if he has any. She wants "40." This guy says he needs to go to his dealer's house. So, I drive to another part of town. This dude goes up to the building and comes back. Gets back in the back seat and then they do the deal. He asks for a "bump" and Deb gives him a rock to smoke in his pipe. He lights up in the back seat and smokes, and Deb does the same thing in the front seat. Yes, I had two people smoking crack in my car. Greaaat.

So I drop the dealer off on the way back to my place. See, Deb wants to smoke it all at my place. She can't go home and smoke it because Cindy has no clue that Deb is even into crack. According to Deb, she likes to smoke it once a month or so. I personally am scared to even try it, afraid of the "instant addiction" that is so talked about in reference to crack. We go back to my place. Deb smokes all of the crack whilst I partake in the various alcoholic beverages in my fridge. Mmmmm... Home-made vanilla vodka. Yummy.

By this point, Deb is awake. Very awake. The sun is up. We've been up all night. It's 6 o'clock in the morning. Deb wants me to take her home so she can go to work. Yup, she's ready to go to work without any sleep and fucked up on alcohol and crack. Crazy, I say. But I take her home. She lies to Cindy about where we've been. According to Deb, we've been out drinking all night at a bar, then we went to my place to continue drinking after last call.

So, I told you I'd tell you more about my car later. Here's the deal: I drive a retired police cruiser. Yup, it looks just like the unmarked cars that my local PD drives, antennae and all:



The funny thing is, on a later crack run with Deb (a few months later), yet _another_ drug dealer got in the back seat of my car voluntarily! I can't believe how stupid these dealers are. They are lucky that in both of these cases that we weren't the cops and that they actually did get their money. Morons.

-Sassy