Old Habits Die Hard - with a vengance
02 Dec 2015DNA-Decay
oooh my head.What day is it?
Uh, these days I'm mostly pretty straight.
Nice family
Steady job
Membership at a posh club.
But somedays the old street radar kicks in and lights up like a Christmas tree.
A couple of posts showed that the smarty bums and the drug pigs were going to meet up in Kappa Fornacis at Emily's Tea Rooms to shift a few kilotons of Tony Abbott's drug of choice:
Onion Head
Man that bloke loved gettin ripped. Here he is in his Speed Dealer Sunnies chattin with fellow Speed-Dealer-Supremacists Facebook Page administrator - Danno.
Lots of Aussie Prime Ministers liked to hoover up the goey.
But enough ancient history about irrelevant dinosaurs.
The push had been running for a few days already and the forums were awash with the drug talk.
Who's got what and where to get it. Prices, dealers, dodgy cops. Easy money, easy scores, easy lies. After they shut down New Silk Road and you could no longer order the good stuff to your door, the Trade went back to Car Boot sales. 8 ton of fresh fruit and Veg sitting on top of 8 ton of O' Heads in the back of a Cobra - nuthin suss about moving "16 ton of veggies officer"
I thought it would be easy.
I thought I could make it work this time.
I'm older now - smarter.
I met up with Sleazy Mick by the bins in the car park behind Hunger Macs. It's a burger franchise across a couple of systems, chief employer of the under 16s. Sleazy is manager there now "Lord of the tweens" and he's running 'head into town backloaded into the precooked produce. We split a foil and chat about funerals and mates in prison.
Bernie the drunk is working at an abbottoir in New Wagga Wagga and handles the backloading. Vacuum sealed bags stuffed down a dead pig's throat, like some Tory hazing party.
I stuff a sample half kilo in my pants. And make arrangements to pick up the bulk of the load from Pad 31. A trickier liftoff but closer to the mailslot.
Sleazy's gear is good and pretty soon I'm trying to look cool while I casually throw up in the gutter.
It's always affected me that way, and I've got the rotten back teeth to prove it. My eyes are watery and my sinuses full of the acrid taste of spew and Onion Head.
I'm wiping my eyes and drying the spit off my chin when I see the cops.
They see me seeing them, spin the lights once and pull over.
There's a bunch of back and forth about my form and where I'm going; and next thing they're pulling on the blue gloves.
"Empty out your pockets son and show us your arms".
I start going through the motions pulling each thing out one by one, Hauler taxi tickets, bills of lading, con notes, glasses cases, wallets, pockets everywhere, shit for days. I'm down to the mod and the kanger geni tank - if they see my vape gear I'll be strip searched and this gig is over.
RAVENVAPES https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E5hHJ_DtLAM&list=PLEgvX11UdGR5VOR1cu6WDcpbeRIB5Trqp&index=6
But their radio crackles to life, Code 8 DV Residential Bloc C35 closest units to attend - White Ribbon protocol.
The cops aren't happy but they have priorities.
They tell me to piss off and my blood pressure fades with their lights and sirens.
I look up through the canopy and the whole of Harvestport is throbbing onionhead green and white in time with my pulse.
Entranced by the beauty I stare, fish mouthed, for too long and some suit on their way to lunch sniffs at me and I realise I'm bathed in rancid sweat and my pupils are opening and closing like nervous umbrellas.
Better get to the loading dock and the safety of the Yellow Punchbuggy, before the paranoia kicks in.
Sleazy is already loading the pigs carcasses as I arrive. I don't know how he has the access codes, but I'm grateful that I don't have to do the lifting. Smears of fat all over Sleazy's apron.
"None too fresh" I say and he grins. Teeth of a Collingwood supporter that bloke. We do the credit transfer by the rear landing gear, and I get inside.
The stench hits me, and I stop by the dunny to smear some Tiger Balm under my nose and take a hit off the inhaler.
I must have blacked out and lost some time - the geni tank is empty on the inhaler so I reload, noting like a hungry squirrel that the half kilo sample is more than half gone.
Out of the urinal the stink of dead pig is eyewatering and there's a nasy taint like formalyn mixed with it.
Sooner I get to Xelabara sooner I can get myself clean again.
