get the 'white' out (forever)
the story of the dumbest man in the world, myself, accidentally getting some super clean ice:
no more affordable pods from the internet and tramadol ain't cuttin it. what to do? find a hobo and offer $10 to put me to the man holding some junk. works great, time to re-up. Now, I am new to this area and new to real face to face 'hard' dealing (sold reefer for ages but that's like a fuckin lemonade stand really), as all my previous opiates were mail-order or gifted. So i'm trying to find out, what else is out here? oxys on the street? I think i'm making myself clear to this freak-gopher i've rounded up that i want opiates, and he says 'ya man we got black, white, everything around here' so next time i go in for a bag of 'white,' thinking we're talking some afghan shit or some mexican fentanyl.
I go home with a gram, excited as shit to see WAY more product for the money than the last deal. It's a white powder. It's bitter as fuck. It smells vinegary. But - remember - i am the dumbest man in the world. So into a spoon goes a mighty hill, and into my arm goes this clear, clean solution that looks like what prop heroin on a soap opera would be like. I'm standing in the bathroom, and with the cap not even back on the tip i'm pissing explosively all of a sudden, and i feel what i can only describe as the exact opposite of the drug effect I wanted. And i have a mighty opiate tolerance - but amphetamines? I really do have an arrhythmia and immediately i knew that fucker between my lungs would be banging around like buddy rich on acid and poppers until my eyeballs exploded. I got into the shower and slowly cooled the water down, hoping that would preserve me for just long enough to survive. However, instead there were several hours of compulsively trimming my pubic hair with crappy scissors, resulting in a crotchular region pockmarked with bloody nicks.
When I hit that wall where your body has nothing left to give but the speed is still burning nitrous, i collapsed onto the bed, with my thumb hovering over the call button with 911 entered into the phone. Now, kids, if there's one good thing about being stupid, it's that you're probably also a little lucky, if you're stupid enough. I was lucky enough to have a stash of mail-order clonidine tucked away for a rainy day, presumably the kind of rain that obliterates all the opiates in it's path. An extremely confused and slightly terrified girlfriend rummaged through our pharmacopoeia at my direction and, a moment later after a cursory check of webMD, delivered unto me the tablets that allowed my body to slow to a point of extreme, as opposed to fatal, amphetamine intoxication. A med student friend later told me that in all likelihood the clonidine saved my life. The moral of the story - one: if in any doubt, if you have to strip naked to show you aren't wearing a wire, it's worth using the clearest and most direct terms you can get away with, in person of course. and two - don't use, trust, look at, handle, contemplate or pursue methamphetamines. adderrall is the strongest shit anyone should need for stimulation, and even then, who wants a shrunken little dick and an inability to get drunk?