Relapse (1)

Alright, well, a few things had happened since we'd landed in Toronto.

First, we realized how infinitely glad we were to be at least a few miles away from Habeeb's ignorance. The instant his car had pulled out of the parking lot he'd left us in, we muttered a few insincere thanks before hootin' and hollerin' as he crept out of the parking lot at his usual speed of 2 clicks an hour.

The second thing that happened was that I saw my old heroin dealer. Fuck. His stocky, pale, ogrish form ripped up to us on his skateboard before we'd even had a chance to find the person we were looking for in Toronto.

Ogre is actually a really cool guy. Despite this, I hadn't been making a point of seeing him while I was here. Last year, traveling with a group of traincore oogles had gotten me into some extra sticky situations with heroin. Needless to say, I wasn't too eager to reinstate an addiction like that.

Pft. Who was I kidding?

 I opened the filing cabinet that categorized my life;

sidling through the different years that each folder held.

I pulled out my past memories

and sent them through a shredder;

I found my failed dreams,

stapled them together,

and mailed them back to who I used to be.

Once I'd cleared out the empty folders,

I found myself at rock bottom again.

The three of us handed him over a wad of cash and waited for him to return. (I know that the number one rule on the streets is not to give money to dealers and let them run off, but I'd known Ogre for some good time and knew he was a solid guy. Aside from the first impression that any dope dealer gives off, he's an intensely spiritual, verbally talented sympathizer. He just happens to make his profit off of other people's lives.)

Didgeridouchebags

Anyway, we clunked down on the sidewalk and jammed out on our didgeridoos while we waited for Ogre and Snooze to show up.

Ah - Snooze. Last time I'd seen Snooze had been back in B.C.

Me and some of my old friends had introduced Snooze to Scrib and she'd fallen head over feels into a boiling vat of infatuation. Seriously - I'd never seen anyone fall so severely in love, so quickly. Despite our constantly hanging out together, she isolated herself from our group so she could ogle Scrib. Our words were lost on her; her words ceased to exist - her entire existence was revolving around putting Scrib under the scrutiny of a glossy-eyed stare.

Anyway, I'd hoped that her relentless lust (relentlust?) would diminish at least a bit between then and now, but it hadn't. She'd spent the first week apart sending me text messages demanding to know about Scrib's safety, and when it got so severe that I had no choice but to ignore them, she began calling me with the sound of tears in her voice demanding to know if Scrib had died.

Yeah. One of those relationships! Anyway, things hadn't changed. She offered Fernweh and I a quick hug before she threw her arms and her eyes onto Scrib and refused to let go of him until Ogre returned with our drugs. Right - the drugs. We had some explaining to do with Snooze...