Zitten ze hier te kutten met sealtjes van 0,4gram, 3 op 1 versneden.
Daar gaan ze met schalen rond alsof het bitterballen zijn.
ik ga hier even een stukje van een autobiografie posten die ik aan het lezen ben:
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By now, Iwas putting so much of the stuff up my nose that I had to smoke a bag of dope every day just to stop my heart from exploding. We never left the house. Booze, drugs, food, groupies – everything was delivered. On a good day there’d be bowls of white powder and crates of booze in every room, and all these random rock ’n’ rollers and chicks in bikinis hanging around the place – in the bedrooms, on the sofas, outside on the recliners – all of them as high aswe were. It would be almost impossible to exaggerate how much coke we did in that house. At one point we were getting through so much of the stuff, we had to have it delivered twice a day. Don’t ask me who was organising it all the only thing I can remember is this shady-looking bloke on the telephone the whole time. But he wasn’t shady in the normal sense of the word: he was clean cut and had one of those Ivy League accents, and he’d wear white shirts and smart trousers, like he was on his way to work in an office. I once asked him, ‘What the fuck do you do, man?’ He just laughed and fiddled nervously with his aviator shades. At that stage I didn’t care, as long as the coke kept coming.
...
...
Eventually we started to wonder where the fuck all the coke was coming from. All we knew was that it arrived in the back of unmarked vans, packed inside cardboard boxes. In each box there were about thirty vials – ten across, three deep – and each one had a screw-on top, sealed with wax. I’m telling you: that coke was the whitest, purest, strongest stuff you could ever imagine. One sniff, and you were the king of the universe. But as much as we loved being human vacuum cleaners, we knew it would have been a big deal,getting caught with one of our dodgy shipments. ... This guy was bad news. I just knew it. ‘Listen, man,’ I said. ‘Who do you work for?’ He put down his newspaper and took a sip of his coffee. ‘The United States government,’ he said. I almost jumped off my recliner and made a dive for the hedge. But my head was spinning, and I hadn’t felt my legs since the night before. That’s it, I thought: we’re all fucked now. ‘Jesus Christ, man, relax ,’ he said, seeing the look on my face. ‘I’m not the FBI. You’re not about to getbusted. We’re all friends here. I work for the Food and Drug Administration.’
‘the what?’
‘The FDA.’
‘You mean, all that coke... it’s coming from—’
‘Think of it as a gift from Santa Claus. Because you know what they say about Santa Claus, don’t you?
‘No?’
‘There’s a lot of snow where he comes from.’
Before I could work out if the bloke was being serious, he looked at his watch and said he had a meeting to attend. So he finished his coffee, got up, patted me on the back, and fucked off.
van een cd hoesje (of iets anders van plastic) snuiven? het is gewoon heiligschennis
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