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Heroin war stories

brimz said:
I tend to type as i would chat . I'm not really that well educated formally not that it bothers me .
edit

thinking about it i learnt more from Rakim than my English classes for real !!
Click to expand...

I'm with you there Brimz. My grammar is part of my accent. Its no different when people try to correct it than when they correct my accent. Fuckin rudeness imo.
 
My saddest war story of many happened in an Italian town. I used to pick up my script every week from as easy going and dropdead gorgeous doctoressa. We got on well and, when one night I told her my girlfriend had booted me out, she said I could stay there for a few days. I knew she'd recently separated from her partner and thought maybe my ship was finally in and I'd soon be living the junkie dream. Spent the night in her spare room and planned a charm offensive on her return from work the following day.

I bathed, shaved and put on my best clothes and planned my lines for when she came home. Then I sat on the can in her lovely tiled bathroom and went for an ankle vein. Couldn't hit it at all and 45 minutes later the floor was awash in blood from my failed attempts. Which is when she walked in. Even today, I lament for what might have been.
 
And one for ptc and the other scat fans, also from Italy.

On route to Naples where a script awaited, I foolishly lingered in Rome, got heavy sick and evacuated in my pants on a dawn bus to Termini station. Waddled into the underground passage, switched jeans in the doorway of a yet-to-open shop down there, dumped my soiled ones and hurried off. Had got about 20 yards when the proprietor yelled out for that fucking junkie to come back and take his shit away. Watched by a dozen curious early commuters, I obeyed. Never been so embareassed in my life.
 
The second version is with more detail and is one that i will probably blog - TBH I have contributed to so many forums with stories I forget what went where. But lets see if we can keep tghis thread running we all like to here about close shaves , bumper bags, etc etc - got a good one where i was threatened with a pitchfork in my face....
 
After a few months i naively thought i had it all sussed in a foreign land . Everything was easy , just like it says about Portugal . You know Drugs are legal n all that well i learnt the hard way that this is far from reality.

For months it had been a peace of piss same place , same time , same people. One day when i got to the spot it was all different the atmosphere was on edge folk looked worried . I managed to get the story off my mate n scoring partner .
"Someone was shot "dead" in the Bairrio last night . This meant that the supply chain was all to fuk .

Their must have been about 100 hundred of us all colours , sexes & social standing from Suit wearing Office managers to Beggars. All in the same position we were all going to be ill soon .
The more connected were going off in groups not wanting to share their knowledge , today their was no unity it was get what you can n fuk the next man.

Occasionally a package of hastily wrapped bags would be thrown from a window to a runner & devoured in seconds on a i got their first out my way you cunt basis.

I had decided the best course of action was to team up with Nuno he was a English speaking Hotel night manager and definatley had my back . Their were plenty more other shady characters offering to take me to different Barrios but i was reading them easily , my fate would be getting robbed or worse.

The dilema was Alexio where the shooting had taken place a area awash with drugs & illegal migrants some The Africans were trained Killers . They had grown up as militia back home & managed to flee but the ruthless streak was still their . They would think nothing off slicing your throat for a crack pipe.

Or we could swallow our pride & go to Viso a sink estate where the dealers were usually 16 year old locals . They weren't daft though , the news of the shotting would of spread & the poxy deals would be even more poxy today . Meaning that it would take at least two items to just get right.

Fuk it Alexio it was in our junkie fog we had justified this mad & stupid journey with the inevitable good product that always came from this lawless place.
The walk along the coast was quick junkie stomp full steam .
When entering Alexio you are reminded straight away of the places reputation by the presence of spotters who vet all incoming potential customers , one way in one way out unless you count in a body bag .
When we reached the main tower far in to the Bairrio it was absolute bedlam but a controlled Bedlam . One line for white one for Brown and one for hash.
& the same again further in.
Not wanting to put all our eggs in one basket itw as decided to get two of each from each line & then get the fuk out of this mad max style waste land .

The relief upon reaching the Duro was immense & their was no time to pick a nice spot it was a simple shoot the stuff in a doorway at the back of a bar & hope that the owner didn't come out . He didn't and the stuff was proper , i mean why else would folk risk their life to shop here .

I split from Nuno & on the way home i thought fuk it why not check the usual spot i still had 20 euro. As soon as i was in the vicinty it was obvious that buisness was back to normal in fact i learnt that the crew had arrived just half an hour after we departed for Alexio. Inevitably the 20 euro was spent & i was straight home for another hit.
This time i could enjoy it .
 
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Interesting stuff mate, mainly because of all the little details in there. You might not think much of your writing skills but that paints a vivid picture of people and places which is one of the more important aspects of story-telling.

Once upon a time, not long ago, when people wore pyjamas and lived life slow...
 
a few years ago, when living in brierley hill sky-rise flats with my best friend at the time (nb dont pad up with mates if you wish to remain thus) i had been paid and was the proverbial pig in shit with a plate of gear and 8th of bud next to a big 3ft bong among other assorted semi-dodgy trinkets and what not strewn round the flat.. my friend who was the designated tenant - had been away over a day, getting high with other people and leaving me to get on with things. i was just starting to wonder where he might be when sure enough i hear the lift open then the familiar sound of his keys in the front door. i set down my plate and started towards the front room door to ask where he'd been for so long when my gut dropped..


into the room walked not the emaciated frame of my friend, but three policemen. in less time than i thought possible i vaulted the couch & in the same movement scrunched up the foil & kicked the weed under the couch. next thing i know its faceplanting carpet & cuffs..



fin later.
 
jancrow said:
Interesting stuff mate, mainly because of all the little details in there. You might not think much of your writing skills but that paints a vivid picture of people and places which is one of the more important aspects of story-telling.

Once upon a time, not long ago, when people wore pyjamas and lived life slow...
Click to expand...
Thank you J.
If you liked that story here is a Hip Hop Tune by an artist i have met . The video contains clips of the places i spoke about check it out .

Expeao-Bairro

yeah this Video will give you a good idea of the culture.

I wish i was their right now in my lovely shared flat in Praca de Republica ( A nice area )
 
Years back, I was stuck in a flat with 3 other sickening junkies. With nothing on the horizon, we were knocking back nembire like sweetie and growing progressively sicker and more stupid.

After a while, a neighbour dropped by. Just out of jail and by his own account the best burglar in five counties, he was soon dispatched to reconnoitre the nearby chemist, which he pronounced 'a piece of piss'. He gathered his 'tools' and the rest of us stumbled along behind.

An hour later, it became clear even to our addled minds the guy was full of shit and we gave up on the idea. By now, the lad who'd taken the most downers was asleep in a doorway. We woke him with the bad news. " Fuck this," he said, picked up a dustbin, hurled it through the pharmacy window and jumped after it. With alarm bells going all over the place, the rest of us legged it.

As it broke, it took the police nearly an hour to respond, by which time yer man had opened the ddc, given himself a hit on the spot and curled up on the floor for a kip, where the cops found him. In magistrates, he claimed to have no memory of events after 9pm and attributed his amnesia to his misdosing his medication. Was sent down for a lenient 6 months after police described the break in as ' not a professional job'. They don't make 'em like that any more.
 
Couple of cracking stories there brimz and charlie aswell. Warmrushes one was a pretty good insight into what a heroin sesh must be all about. I'd guess it would be pretty good if it wasn't stupidly addictive and capable of such nasty withdrawls.
 
brimz said:
After a few months i naively thought i had it all sussed in a foreign land . Everything was easy , just like it says about Portugal . You know Drugs are legal n all that well i learnt the hard way that this is far from reality.

For months it had been a peace of piss same place , same time , same people. One day when i got to the spot it was all different the atmosphere was on edge folk looked worried . I managed to get the story off my mate n scoring partner .
"Someone was shot "dead" in the Bairrio last night . This meant that the supply chain was all to fuk .




Their must have been about 100 hundred of us all colours , sexes & social standing from Suit wearing Office managers to Beggars. All in the same position we were all going to be ill soon .
The more connected were going off in groups not wanting to share their knowledge , today their was no unity it was get what you can n fuk the next man.

Occasionally a package of hastily wrapped bags would be thrown from a window to a runner & devoured in seconds on a i got their first out my way you cunt basis.

I had decided the best course of action was to team up with Nuno he was a English speaking Hotel night manager and definatley had my back . Their were plenty more other shady characters offering to take me to different Barrios but i was reading them easily , my fate would be getting robbed or worse.

The dilema was Alexio where the shooting had taken place a area awash with drugs & illegal migrants some The Africans were trained Killers . They had grown up as militia back home & managed to flee but the ruthless streak was still their . They would think nothing off slicing your throat for a crack pipe.

Or we could swallow our pride & go to Viso a sink estate where the dealers were usually 16 year old locals . They weren't daft though , the news of the shotting would of spread & the poxy deals would be even more poxy today . Meaning that it would take at least two items to just get right.

Fuk it Alexio it was in our junkie fog we had justified this mad & stupid journey with the inevitable good product that always came from this lawless place.
The walk along the coast was quick junkie stomp full steam .
When entering Alexio you are reminded straight away of the places reputation by the presence of spotters who vet all incoming potential customers , one way in one way out unless you count in a body bag .
When we reached the main tower far in to the Bairrio it was absolute bedlam but a controlled Bedlam . One line for white one for Brown and one for hash.
& the same again further in.
Not wanting to put all our eggs in one basket itw as decided to get two of each from each line & then get the fuk out of this mad max style waste land .

The relief upon reaching the Duro was immense & their was no time to pick a nice spot it was a simple shoot the stuff in a doorway at the back of a bar & hope that the owner didn't come out . He didn't and the stuff was proper , i mean why else would folk risk their life to shop here .

I split from Nuno & on the way home i thought fuk it why not check the usual spot i still had 20 euro. As soon as i was in the vicinty it was obvious that buisness was back to normal in fact i learnt that the crew had arrived just half an hour after we departed for Alexio. Inevitably the 20 euro was spent & i was straight home for another hit.
This time i could enjoy it .
Click to expand...

That is indeed a mad story brimzy, and thank u for hi-jacking the thread and posting some interesting (original) material! Checked out that portuguese rapper aswell and like the video. Cant comment on the lyrics as I dont speak Porto, and the lyrics / delivery / flow is everything 4 me so far as HH is concerned. The Bairrio looks mad tho.

Now I got a local connect in Notts, some of the same areas as in that film we watched. Annoying tho cos whilst he is puctual, I havent met him yet (hijacked this contact off a guy who I was scoring off via this guy), but have scored off about 6 different of his runners so far (all black), one of which was a lad, maybe 13, I felt guilty. A sweet lad who was asking me what I did for a living, having sat in my van to pull a bag of a hundred or so dark and white rizla wrapped shots (liquorice for light ironically) out his pants. He wants me to sort out his older sisters garden...sweet, in a wrong kinda way eh? Bless, a nice well meaning kid who is doing bad shit for bad people and will prob get locked up or worse on their behalf too soon in his young life. It was when I asked him if his man did teenths, eighths and quarters of dark and he replied "whats that?" I realised he didnt have a fuckin clue.
 
Nasty, hope you didn't pump much in before you noticed and ll post soon to report you came through this occupational hazard undamaged
 
Many years ago I use to score off this abcess strewn epitome of a junkie. He was a nasty cunt but he would sell you 3 quids worth or a 20 bag , what ever you had on you and he was up at 8am and if you turned up and went and got him a can of special \brew he would serve you up on your return.

One day he was out of product and we sat together for 6-7 hours getting sicker and sicker waiting for da man. Eventually the knock on the door came and the gear arrived. He didnt want me to see the guy in case I made my own connection so he took the gear now unwrapped and a 1/4 put it on the table and went to the kitchen to settle up. Now Im sitting there just staring at this big pile of gear on the table and Im afraid greed got the better of me and i helped myself to a pinch - not alot probably a few points, and just as i stuffed it in my pocket he came in. I knew straight away he was suspicious but I tried to act casually and bought my six quids worth or what ever it was.

Two days later i knocked on his door ' who is it'
'Blondin'
'wait a minute'
Next thing I knew a mad, beardy junkie in shit stained boxers opened the door holding a garden fork and jabbing it at my face.

I of course denied everything but he said he weighed the gear and it was 2g's down (it definitely wasnt) I wrestled the fork from him and smashed it on the floor then chased the fucker in to the road - what a fucking spectical.

After talking to him for a while he admitted that it was only .3 down and given we were both so sick that day and the temptation was too much to resist he let me off and I paid him off bit by bit.

He had a massive habit and one of the times I od'd was having his filter - HIS FUCKIN FILTER - he use to use half a ciggy filter cos of the amount of gear in his hits 1/2g min this was when gear was proper.
 
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