National Crack Give Away!

“Run, don’t walk to your nearest crack dealer cause there’s never been a sale like this!”
When I heard that ad on the radio I wondered who was the idiot behind this? I need more crack hits like I need another hole in my lungs. It was fukers like that that were making it real hard for me to keep my three week promise, and I still had two and a half weeks left.
But. I couldn’t resist. I hopped on the bus and headed toward central park. It was standing room only. Every crack addict from here to chicken fuk new jersey were piled on. All heading to get their share of cheap crack.
I got off at Jefferson and hit my bank for some cash. A wino was sleeping underneath the ATM. I tapped him.
“Buddy. Buddy. You still alive?”
“Shiiit.” He barfed up a chicken carcass. “Shit.”
“Buddy. There’s a huge crack sale. You don’t want to miss this one.”
“I don’t smoke crack son. I’m a wino,” he said.
“Well there’s no reason not to start today. I’ve been smoking crack about half my life and nothing like this has ever happened.”
“It’s probably a trick.”
“How do you mean? It was on the radio.”
“Yeah. The same thing happened about twenty years ago,” he said. “I was headed to a huge wino convention. Ten minutes after the introduction speech, the police sealed up all the exits with concrete and I spent two weeks trapped with three thousand stinking winos.”
“That was back then. This is just crack.”
“That’s what they want you to think. Just be careful sonny. You wouldn’t happen to have a couple bucks would you? I’m running real low on weed.”
“Yeah. Here.” I handed him a double sawbuck and then headed down the sidewalk.
“If you’re smart, you’ll give up those devil rocks,” he shouted.
“Point well taken delegate,” I called back.
On the way to the park I got to thinking about what the wino said. A giant trap. Trap all the crack fiends in and drop a bomb on them. Or worse yet, lace the crack with some strychnine and exterminate them all. I became paranoid and turned around. It was not the right day for a crack fix. I decided to blast some weed instead. I finished all my weed the night before so I ran to my friend Jerrry’s house to score some buds.
Jerrry was adjusting his low rider bike on the front lawn. “What’s up dickweasel?” I said. We low fived and Jerry spat the tobacco out of his mouth.
“Just fixing up my chopper. Why aren’t you at central park. You heard about the sale?”
“Yeah. I’m giving up crack. At least for a couple more days. Just to test myself.”
“You’re a brave man. I wouldn’t survive a day without at least a couple doobs. Speaking of which, it’s time for a grass break. Interested?”
“You don’t have to twist my arm.” I followed Jerrry into the garage. We climbed a ladder into his attic. “You’ve really fixed the place up,” I said.
“Yeah my decorator is from Shanghai. The pillows and drapes really make a big difference. All I need now is some opium and some topless gymnasts to light it.”
“Now you’re talking.”
Jerrry pulled out his box of shake and rolled a couple snowcones.
“What’s with the scraps?” I asked.
“The shake? I’ve been trying to keep it mellow. This is some real mean weed. I’ll throw a couple nugs in your doob if you want?”
“Yeah. I’m trying to forget about that crack.”
We puffed away on the reefer. Jerrry put on some music.
I flopped back on some pillows and exhaled a full lung.
“I could be down there smoking rocks. The prices were incredible. Incredible. 1980s prices.”
“You can still make it if you want. I sure as fuk wouldn’t go though. Imagine the chaos. You’d be lucky to find your mouth to smoke the crack.”
“Brother, I was born to smoke crack. I was smoking crack before it was even invented. Did I tell you about my mom?”
“About how she put the coke in your baby bottle when they went through security?”
“Yep. That was the best day of my life. Coolin’ in my stroller, stoned out of my mind. I was fukin blasted. Didn’t sleep for a month and a half.”
Jerrry checked his watch. “I hate to be a dickloaf, but you got to clear out pretty soon. The missus will be back from aerobics soon.”
“Yeah. It’s cool. I’ll hit the trail in a second. Let me smoke this to the but.”
“No problem.”
I zapped that joint and then took off.
My curiosity got the best of me. I walked toward the park to observe from a distance. If they were still selling rocks, I was gonna go for it. After assessing the total picture of course.
The streets leading to the park were covered with people. Some were passed out. Others were jumping up and down. The losers had come out of the woodwork. There were druggies, crack fiends, loadies, toads, rummies, hop heads, stoners, junkies. Everyone was there. I recognized a lot of them from the crack smoking club.
I walked to the center of the park. They were closing up the truck. “Is the sale still going on?” I asked the lady with a hairnet.
“Nope. You’re ten minutes too late. We’re totally empty.”
“FUK! I thought this was a trap. You got a half million junkies lined up for crack. I was sure you guys were gonna bust everyone or drop a bomb or something.”
“Where have you been,” she said, “crack ain’t illegal today.”
“Didn’t you hear? It’s National Coke and Crack Day. In honor of the day our president got busted for cocaine. Now tomorrow may be a different story but not today.”
I kicked the trash can. “That’s my fukin luck. The only day I’m dry is the only day I’m allowed to smoke it.”
“Hey, look. I got a couple rocks in my lunchbox. They pay us in kind. If you want I can give you one?”
“No. Let me pay you for it. That’s very kind of you.”
The day ended on a sad note. Just me and my single rock of crack. I climbed up a tree, strapped myself to the trunk and fired up my little rock. A heavy price to pay for getting paranoid.

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