Sunday, July 12, 2009

Oh no.....Must be the Season of the Bitch!

Just wait, this^^ becomes relevant later on.

Well, I'm not in lock-up, just lazy. I'm sure you can tell from the date that I started this over a week ago and just now got it done. So this is what happened after my last post.

When I climbed into the car Rainman was behind the wheel and Maniac was in the back hitting the glass as usual. I took control of the stereo and replaced R-man's Seasons in the Abyss with some TSOL, it seemed to suit my mood. I crawled over the seats into the back to keep lame-o cholo company...oh and to smoke the motherfucker's speed.
It was kinda hot that night and if I hadn't been intent on putting an end to my hellacious come down, I definitely wouldn't have been rubbing against the sweaty fucktard sitting next to me. The lowered disco-mobile is free of modern conveniences like air conditioning and Maniac had taken his shirt off. I sat as far from him as possible, making snarky comments about douchebags covered in prison ink who have never seen the inside of a reception dorm. He countered with some semi-clever remarks about junky cradle robbers during which I snatched the pipe out of his hand and threatened to chuck it out the window. This set off a wrestling match that got me covered in homie sweat and the pipe lost under the front seat. R-man reached into the backseat and started swatting at us shouting, "Goddamn it, stop that shit or I'll pull this car over right now! Do you hear me? Right now I said!"
We paused, looked at each other and laughed, "Yes Papi." Maniac located the pipe and we concerned ourselves with the smoking of the speed. In between hits of cryysy we sniped at each other until Rainman cranked the volume on the stereo to drown us out. I contented myself with making faces and obscene gestures and settled back to enjoy the sweet sounds of "Code Blue". Me immature? Not on your life! I just like being obnoxious while singing about fucking dead people.
By the time we reached our destination we'd started grappling again. R-man opened the door and grumbled impatiently as I planted my feet in Maniac's chest and launched him out of the back seat and into the dirt. He got up and lunged at me, trying to wrap his hands around my throat but Rainman grabbed him around the waist and kept him off me.
I took my time climbing out of the car and smirked at M, singing out, "I WIIIIN!"
He struggled to get to me and R-man gasped out, "Christ on a cracker woman, stop pokin at him, damn sweaty mez-kin is slicker than a greased pig!"
I almost pissed myself I was laughing so hard! Between Rainman's comment, the look on Maniac's face and the speed in my system, I'm surprised I didn't have some kind of spasticated seizure! It took me a minute to pull myself together and and get the giggles under control. Maniac gave me a disgusted look and said, "Whatchu laffin' at puta, you're just as Mez-kin as I am!"
One look at that face and the dirt stuck all over his stupid ass and I started laughing all over again. I leaned against the car trying to catch my breath and told him to quit pouting, I needed concentrate on why the fuck I there in the first place.
The meth savant filled me in on the details:

1)Gabby owed him close to a thou and had been ducking him for weeks.
2)She had finally called and told him she had most of the cash.
3)If she didn't have at least two thirds of the total amount, I could kick the shit
outta her with his blessing.

My mood had improved considerably since he had first called and asked me to do it but I figured what the hell, I was already there. We walked up to the trailer and climbed the steps, she already knew we were there and the door opened before I could knock on it.
A Navajo girl the size of an Andy Gump outhouse ushered us in, shooting dirty looks in my direction. I smiled sweetly and went to lean on arm of the couch, the trailer smelled worse than it had the last time I was there, if that was possible. I think every dog in New Mexico had taken turns alternately pissing and shitting in that hell hole! Gabby was nowhere to be seen and Rainman sent Maniac to look for her.
He came back, hag-ula in tow and she flung a paper bag on the coffee table. R-man told her to dump it out and count it. She did and came up with something like $800bucks, she handed it to him.
While all this was going on Maniac had made himself comfortable on the couch and started watching TV and smoking it up. Filthy motherfucker, that couch was so rank it could have crawled away on it's own! Rainman put the money away, pulled out a bag of cryssy and scooped some onto the coffee table before settling back to hit his own pipe. Ugh, that fucking couch was NASTY!!!
Gabby eyed the offering hesitantly and said she didn't have any more money. I took the glass from R-man's hand, hit it and said, "He didn't ask for any you dumb cunt, say thank you."
Maniac snickered and the port-a-crapper disguised as a Navajo girl started muttering under her breath....

Umm, I'm gonna post the rest tomorrow because this is one long muthafuckin story and it's probly better if I break it up. Maniac descended on my household last night and spent the better part of the morning getting wired and cleaning his guns. The house has that old familiar smell of tweek, gun oil and sweaty Mez-kin haha. I gotta go fumigate while I'm still inclined to do so, I decided not to smoke but ended up getting high off the fluffy white clouds of cryssy floating through house. I will clean and then spend the rest of the day laying in bed watching movies, eating percocet and waiting for my heart to stop palpitating so I can sleep.