Junk Days

Hey, Charlie! Come look at this picture. That's me, shooting up a nice score of heroin. I'll never forget it. 1993 and the gettin' was good. I was livin' in Seminole, which is only about 15 miles from Wewoka (a small town known in some circles as "Little Chicago"). If it was controlled substances you wanted, Wewoka was the place to find 'em. Hell, I remember one time when I stopped to put some gas in the tank and this total stranger just walked up to me and asked if I wanted to buy some hash. I'd never had that happen to me before. It wasn't very good hash, but it was cheap.

My roommate and I knew at least 6 connections for smack in Little Chicago. We kept them well-fed and put clothes on their backs with the amounts of horse we purchased from them. I do believe that a few of them were under the impression that we were selling. But no, it was all for personal use. Shit, man, we were sticking needles into our veins at least 4 or 5 times a day. It wasn't too long before all of 'em were tapped out and we had to poke the needles straight into our eyes. That, my friend, will REALLY get you high.

Eventually one of our sources introduced us to his main man, a fat, cigar chomping mobster from the local Mafia union. He was pushing some serious kilos and asked us if we wanted a part of that action. It was a peachy deal. We'd have to buy in more bulk than we were used to, but the savings would surely compensate for that. Besides, the needle in the eye trick was working like a charm. We only used one eye, because, hell, a man has to SEE what he's doing. The particular eye that I used was caved in, a mass of blood and gore, eyeball long since torn to shreds...but that didn't matter. The location was so close to the brain that the need for veins was eradicated. It didn't even hurt too much...it got to be fairly numb after two or three months of excrutiating pain.

So, long story short, we hooked up with this big guy and he supplied us with enough China White to not only keep ourselves in horse heaven for years, but to give some to our luckier friends, on special occassions, as well. I was hooked like a fish on a line for a long time, but I'm happy to say that those days are all behind me now. They are the stuff of dreams.

Every once in a while, as I'm walking down the sidewalks of Little Chicago, I will lift up my patch and frighten young children with the gruesome spectacle of the heroin ravaged carnage that was once my left eye. Young children, grown men and women, the elderly...they all seem to get a fright out of the sight. Personally, I can't see what's so scary about it...