CTdopeLove
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Oct 15, 2005
- Messages
- 748
[This trip doesn't tell too much about the effects of the roll I took, but this was one of the most horrid nights of my life, and I was rolling at the time, so I hope this qualifies as somewhat of a trip report.]
Back in my college days, I used to move a bit of weed, basically only to friends and friends of friends. Anyway, I had gone to sell a few oz's to someone about an hour away from where I live, and a friend came with me. While up there, we bought one E pill each, and I bought one for a friend back home.
Anyway, after dosing on the ride home, I was coming up nicely as I drove back into town, and called my friend to drop off the pill to him. He was at someone's house who lives right down the street from me, in the suburbs, who I've known for a long time. So I pull up to this guy's house, where there's a bunch of people standing around, and get out of the car (leaving ~1/4 lb. of weed under the seat of my car since I didn't know how much weed the guy I had gone to see was going to want) and proceed to give my friend his E pill. Just after, I feel an arm go around my neck and something cold and metal pressed to the side of my head.
"You have til the count of three to give me all your shit or you're fucking dead" is what I heard, but I was around friends in my own neighborhood in a middle class suburb, surely this was a joke. "You're gonna have to shoot me you fuck" I said, playing along with the joke as he began counting.
All of a sudden, BAM a massive impact ripped through my head, and I crumpled to the pavement. "Oh my god he shot me" I thought. I was severely dazed, but I tenatively reached up and touched my head with my hand, thinking I must either be dreaming, or about to die, laying here on the pavement just 1/8 mile down the street from my house. When I looked at my hand, I was in awe at what I saw. It was COMPLETELY soaked in red, and this is when I knew I was going to die while these thugs ransacked my car. I imagined my parents finding out that I was a drug dealer, shot to death in a robbery while I was high on ecstacy.
I laid on the pavement, dazed but not unconscious, listening to these fucks look through my car, waiting for death to overcome me as I bled out on the pavement. I wasn't scared of dying, but I was afraid of how it would impact my parents. As I laid there, I realized I didn't feel any pain in my head, just numbness and warmth.
"Where's the rest of the shit?!" they screamed at me as the first kicks rained down on my ribs. I tried to shield my vital organs with my arms, but I was sure my arms were going to soon be broken as the repeated kicks battered them. I just moaned and tried to remain as motionless as possible, hoping they realized I couldn't be of any help to them in my bloodied condition, and they'd leave me alone. After a few more kicks to my arms and head, they hoisted me up by my armpits, and tried to sit me in the car.
"Your gonna take us for a ride fucker" I heard. "They must be joking," I thought, "I'm shot in the head and they want me to drive them somewhere?" As they pulled me to my feet, I collapsed, draped over my open car door, trying to seem as out of it and near death as I could. "Fuck this," I heard one of them say, "lets get the fuck out of here."
They took my car keys, and ran off down the street. I watch them run off out of the corner of my eye, and once they were gone I straightened up and turned to the large group of people there, all of whom I knew well. "Oh my god he shot me, someone call an ambulance" I said, completely lucid and composed as all these people stared at me, white as ghosts. One of them finally spoke up and said "they didn't shoot you, the other guy hit you in the head with a club". I put my hand back up to my head, and blood was still pouring out like a faucet, but I couldn't feel any actual hole where a bullet would have gone in.
As I asked repeatedly if they were sure I wasn't shot, the kid who's house it was said I had to get out of there, this couldn't be happening at his house. "You've got to be a fuckin kidding me Eric," I said, "I need a fuckin ambulance NOW, call 911... and get me a fucking towel for my head."
He went inside his house, and his mom came out a moment later holding a towel for me. "Oh my god," she said, stopping in her tracks and swooning. I thought she was going to feint, but she regained her composure and handed me the towel, asking me if I was ok. "No I'm not ok, I need an ambulance, look at my head!" She told me the ambulance was on the way, and to sit down while I waited for them. Instead, I made my way over to my car, to make sure no evidence of my drug dealing was left. Nope, weed gone, scale gone, digital camera gone, keys gone, wallet gone. I straightened up and looked at my reflection in the car window. The left half of my face, and the left half of my body were completely soaked in blood. It looked like someone had taped a line down the center of my body and then spraypainted half of me with a thick coat of blood.
After seeing my reflection in the window, I started to feel a bit dizzy, from both the shock of how I looked and probably from the blood loss, as there was a giant puddle in the street where I had been laying, so I walked over and sat on a bench in this kid's yard, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Throughout this entire time, I had barely thought about the fact that I was rolling, but now it came back full force. My head was very warm from all the blood pouring out, but I didn't feel any pain from the laceration, just tingliness and warmth.
The paramedics whisked me away to the hospital, where they cleaned the cut on my head with some kind of antibiotic soap and then stapled my head shut, 8 staples in all. The doctor looked in my eyes, and asked immediately if I had used any recreational drugs that night, and that my pupils were very dilated. "No," I replied, feigning fear, "what does that mean? What could be wrong with me?' The doctor said it was probably just shock, and that I would be fine.
This whole episode was the last time I ever took ecstacy. Turns out one of the people who jumped me was actually my cousin, a kid who's had a problem with drugs for a long time, committing house burglaries to fund his addictions to heroin, crack and pcp. He's spent lots of time in and out of jail for burglary. For months after this happened, I couldn't step out of my car at night without looking warily over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't about to be ambushed, the thieves come back to finish me off. It also turns out that one of the people who was at my "friend's" house that night set me up, telling my cousin when I would be there and that I would have lots of weed with me. I thought about seeking revenge against my cousin, but after a while I realized this just comes with the territory of being a drug dealer. I was stupid and reckless, carrying that much weed around with me with so many people knowing about it. I'm lucky getting robbed was all that happened, I could have ended up in jail for quite a while.
All I can say is, what a trip.
~CTdopeLove
Back in my college days, I used to move a bit of weed, basically only to friends and friends of friends. Anyway, I had gone to sell a few oz's to someone about an hour away from where I live, and a friend came with me. While up there, we bought one E pill each, and I bought one for a friend back home.
Anyway, after dosing on the ride home, I was coming up nicely as I drove back into town, and called my friend to drop off the pill to him. He was at someone's house who lives right down the street from me, in the suburbs, who I've known for a long time. So I pull up to this guy's house, where there's a bunch of people standing around, and get out of the car (leaving ~1/4 lb. of weed under the seat of my car since I didn't know how much weed the guy I had gone to see was going to want) and proceed to give my friend his E pill. Just after, I feel an arm go around my neck and something cold and metal pressed to the side of my head.
"You have til the count of three to give me all your shit or you're fucking dead" is what I heard, but I was around friends in my own neighborhood in a middle class suburb, surely this was a joke. "You're gonna have to shoot me you fuck" I said, playing along with the joke as he began counting.
All of a sudden, BAM a massive impact ripped through my head, and I crumpled to the pavement. "Oh my god he shot me" I thought. I was severely dazed, but I tenatively reached up and touched my head with my hand, thinking I must either be dreaming, or about to die, laying here on the pavement just 1/8 mile down the street from my house. When I looked at my hand, I was in awe at what I saw. It was COMPLETELY soaked in red, and this is when I knew I was going to die while these thugs ransacked my car. I imagined my parents finding out that I was a drug dealer, shot to death in a robbery while I was high on ecstacy.
I laid on the pavement, dazed but not unconscious, listening to these fucks look through my car, waiting for death to overcome me as I bled out on the pavement. I wasn't scared of dying, but I was afraid of how it would impact my parents. As I laid there, I realized I didn't feel any pain in my head, just numbness and warmth.
"Where's the rest of the shit?!" they screamed at me as the first kicks rained down on my ribs. I tried to shield my vital organs with my arms, but I was sure my arms were going to soon be broken as the repeated kicks battered them. I just moaned and tried to remain as motionless as possible, hoping they realized I couldn't be of any help to them in my bloodied condition, and they'd leave me alone. After a few more kicks to my arms and head, they hoisted me up by my armpits, and tried to sit me in the car.
"Your gonna take us for a ride fucker" I heard. "They must be joking," I thought, "I'm shot in the head and they want me to drive them somewhere?" As they pulled me to my feet, I collapsed, draped over my open car door, trying to seem as out of it and near death as I could. "Fuck this," I heard one of them say, "lets get the fuck out of here."
They took my car keys, and ran off down the street. I watch them run off out of the corner of my eye, and once they were gone I straightened up and turned to the large group of people there, all of whom I knew well. "Oh my god he shot me, someone call an ambulance" I said, completely lucid and composed as all these people stared at me, white as ghosts. One of them finally spoke up and said "they didn't shoot you, the other guy hit you in the head with a club". I put my hand back up to my head, and blood was still pouring out like a faucet, but I couldn't feel any actual hole where a bullet would have gone in.
As I asked repeatedly if they were sure I wasn't shot, the kid who's house it was said I had to get out of there, this couldn't be happening at his house. "You've got to be a fuckin kidding me Eric," I said, "I need a fuckin ambulance NOW, call 911... and get me a fucking towel for my head."
He went inside his house, and his mom came out a moment later holding a towel for me. "Oh my god," she said, stopping in her tracks and swooning. I thought she was going to feint, but she regained her composure and handed me the towel, asking me if I was ok. "No I'm not ok, I need an ambulance, look at my head!" She told me the ambulance was on the way, and to sit down while I waited for them. Instead, I made my way over to my car, to make sure no evidence of my drug dealing was left. Nope, weed gone, scale gone, digital camera gone, keys gone, wallet gone. I straightened up and looked at my reflection in the car window. The left half of my face, and the left half of my body were completely soaked in blood. It looked like someone had taped a line down the center of my body and then spraypainted half of me with a thick coat of blood.
After seeing my reflection in the window, I started to feel a bit dizzy, from both the shock of how I looked and probably from the blood loss, as there was a giant puddle in the street where I had been laying, so I walked over and sat on a bench in this kid's yard, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Throughout this entire time, I had barely thought about the fact that I was rolling, but now it came back full force. My head was very warm from all the blood pouring out, but I didn't feel any pain from the laceration, just tingliness and warmth.
The paramedics whisked me away to the hospital, where they cleaned the cut on my head with some kind of antibiotic soap and then stapled my head shut, 8 staples in all. The doctor looked in my eyes, and asked immediately if I had used any recreational drugs that night, and that my pupils were very dilated. "No," I replied, feigning fear, "what does that mean? What could be wrong with me?' The doctor said it was probably just shock, and that I would be fine.
This whole episode was the last time I ever took ecstacy. Turns out one of the people who jumped me was actually my cousin, a kid who's had a problem with drugs for a long time, committing house burglaries to fund his addictions to heroin, crack and pcp. He's spent lots of time in and out of jail for burglary. For months after this happened, I couldn't step out of my car at night without looking warily over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't about to be ambushed, the thieves come back to finish me off. It also turns out that one of the people who was at my "friend's" house that night set me up, telling my cousin when I would be there and that I would have lots of weed with me. I thought about seeking revenge against my cousin, but after a while I realized this just comes with the territory of being a drug dealer. I was stupid and reckless, carrying that much weed around with me with so many people knowing about it. I'm lucky getting robbed was all that happened, I could have ended up in jail for quite a while.
All I can say is, what a trip.
~CTdopeLove
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