Tales From The Crack Pipe

Beta came home from work and found Shawn the crackhead in his house. His roommate Mr. Sleeze was a frequent can-blaster and was unfortunately always too fucked up to notice what a sketchy dickhead Shawn was.

It was 5:00 in the afternoon. Shawn looked like his usual ran over by a truck and puked on self. Mr. Sleeze was tweakin’ and speakin’ and freakin’ in a sporadic and incomprehensible manner, hadn’t slept in exactly 36 hours… The hallucinations had been rampant all day. The anti-Christ was on his shoulder, the living room on fire, and everyone he knew wanted to kill him or torture him. He sat by the door with a baseball bat rocking back and forth waiting for something to happen. Shawn, continued to be his usual crack-consuming self, sitting on Beta’s couch…. loafing… smoking… letting the rock decay his teeth even further than they already were and inviting involuntary body twitches to take control.

Beta looked at both of them, shook his head, sighed and took his laptop upstairs. He stayed up there playing first person shooter games on the internet, smoking supersonic bionic chronic weed and beating off to internet porn. Musta smoked 6 or 7 dubes until eventually he got so high that his eyes ceased to work anymore forcing him to get killed and make stupid mistakes in his game. He went to bed.

At 7am the next day Beta awoke to find a note on the kitchen counter from Shawn… It read:

B8A,
I cleaned up te house a bit fer u.
Here a mikee of rum and $5

I know u don’t like ppl in ur house.

Cya,
Shawn

Beta put the note down and left for work. On the drive in he wondered what happened to Mr. Sleeze and Shawn. Did they have to go out on a mission to pick up some more teeth rotting crazy spizazy… Did they get so paranoid and high that they had to leave the house and hide out somewhere… Was Mr. Sleeze right about the people who wanted to kill him?! Maybe they had been kidnapped… He pondered it for about a minute before turning up the Black Sabbath song on the radio… Tryin’ to take his mind away from the fact that he somehow found himself living with a crackhead and was inadvertently hosting some pretty seedy crack parties.

When Beta arrived home from work later that day, he hoped that he would be alone. Upon opening the front door he saw the face that he wanted to see least… Shawn. Passed out on the couch holding a slice of pizza in between his legs and resting the side of his face on another slice. Beta went into the kitchen to grab a beer. Upon glancing over at the counter he noticed that the mickey was 3 shots shy of being empty, the $5 was gone, and the note was crumpled up and thrown in the garbage.

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6 thoughts on “Tales From The Crack Pipe

  1. Hey SeLiNa.

    I hope that all is well.

    Just wanted to let you know that I have really enjoyed your latest posts. Very good stuff!

    Your tees are cool and clever too!
    Hopefully you got some good hits for St. Patrick’s Day (or amateur night, as some call it)…

    That’s all for now…

    Take care, little lady!

    Your Pal,

    Zambo.

  2. Loved this! Vibrant, phenomenal use of absurdist language in the tradition of the beats…yah… i was into this one…

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