How to put a van in your nose
The van
I was fucking tired of that van. An old econoline from 1984. Diesel was getting so fucking expensive.
Anyways, the van served a great amount of mileage. A couple of tours, some good shows with Lorrain, the Lgar brothers and the whole Born Dead Icons experience.
Tonnels of beer, some sludgy guitars and thousnads of miles.
'would have never tought to sell it back then. But whatever, we all get to the end of the road at some point.
The ad cost me a six pack and one big bottle of "La fin du monde". A boring evening. Extremely boring, I ended up having some fun in front of the TV. I think it was a documentary on Tl-Qubec.
The call
I was so fucking desesperated. I would pick up the phone just to see if someone was there, wanting to give me the greens, the reds and browns for the van.
-Calm down Mister Itchy Nozzz.
-Give me food you sucka.
-Ring, ring!
I'm coming. Of course, I had to calm down while his fucking mechanic was checking the engine. I bought it ten thousnads, he told me that due to the condition of the van and a serial of names i don't get he proposed ten browns.
Amuse-gueule
Diego and i went straight away to see the dealer. We bought a thousand dollars of "La diosa blanca". What a great idea from Diego.
-Is it for your own or is it for business?, asked us the scatman.
Was it because it's not usual when two normal looking guys buy that amount of shit?
Whatever, Dieguito told me we should do a party. He gave us a bag with 50 grams of coke. I had never seen so much coke in my whole life. The scatman was happy. It was a good deal.
We had coke for a while.
We went to Diego's appartment on a Friday evening, after work, and start blowing the stuff.
We ate nothing, we didn't sleep, we blow the stuff and drank whisky.
At the very beginning, we felt powerful. The most powerful guys in Montral. But while we were blowing the shit, things were getting bad... worst.
At the end, it was fucking crazy. Diego was in the washrrom, on the floor and talking to himself. I was in front of a mirror giving a speech on ethics. When the audience wasn't looking, i would dive my little finger in the coke and put it in my nose.
There was a lot of coke left but out bodies were full of the diosa. My face was swelled, my nose looked like a ball and my heart was broken. I couldn't see anything, only clouds.
But Diego was worst than me. He wasn't able to talk. Not a single sentence. It was our second night blowing the scatman's stuff.
My hands were shaking... I tought I was Mohammed Ali drowned by Parkinson.
Diego was dying. But I could see he wanted something.
-Milk- he whispered. I need milk.
I got him some milk. He drank three glasses of milk than he puked.
I was so anguished that I threw the rest of the coke in the sink.
-What are you doing, you fucker?
Too late, the coke was gone.
Diego was so mad he kicked me out of his house. I sat in the park just beside the train tracks on Van Horne (Diego would say Van Horny...). Then, I stopped a taxi and went home.
Sunday
I was in mortal agony in my bed.
I was so lucky, that Diego wasn't pissed out anymore and came by my house in the afternoon with some pot he grew up this summer somewhere in the countryside.
We smoked some zeppelins and felt a little better, good.
The van was gone. We put it in our noses. The rest of it was gone in the sink.
At least, we were alive.
On monday, when I was drinking my coffee, I felt like a very old man.
The van
I was fucking tired of that van. An old econoline from 1984. Diesel was getting so fucking expensive.
Anyways, the van served a great amount of mileage. A couple of tours, some good shows with Lorrain, the Lgar brothers and the whole Born Dead Icons experience.
Tonnels of beer, some sludgy guitars and thousnads of miles.
'would have never tought to sell it back then. But whatever, we all get to the end of the road at some point.
The ad cost me a six pack and one big bottle of "La fin du monde". A boring evening. Extremely boring, I ended up having some fun in front of the TV. I think it was a documentary on Tl-Qubec.
The call
I was so fucking desesperated. I would pick up the phone just to see if someone was there, wanting to give me the greens, the reds and browns for the van.
-Calm down Mister Itchy Nozzz.
-Give me food you sucka.
-Ring, ring!
I'm coming. Of course, I had to calm down while his fucking mechanic was checking the engine. I bought it ten thousnads, he told me that due to the condition of the van and a serial of names i don't get he proposed ten browns.
Amuse-gueule
Diego and i went straight away to see the dealer. We bought a thousand dollars of "La diosa blanca". What a great idea from Diego.
-Is it for your own or is it for business?, asked us the scatman.
Was it because it's not usual when two normal looking guys buy that amount of shit?
Whatever, Dieguito told me we should do a party. He gave us a bag with 50 grams of coke. I had never seen so much coke in my whole life. The scatman was happy. It was a good deal.
We had coke for a while.
We went to Diego's appartment on a Friday evening, after work, and start blowing the stuff.
We ate nothing, we didn't sleep, we blow the stuff and drank whisky.
At the very beginning, we felt powerful. The most powerful guys in Montral. But while we were blowing the shit, things were getting bad... worst.
At the end, it was fucking crazy. Diego was in the washrrom, on the floor and talking to himself. I was in front of a mirror giving a speech on ethics. When the audience wasn't looking, i would dive my little finger in the coke and put it in my nose.
There was a lot of coke left but out bodies were full of the diosa. My face was swelled, my nose looked like a ball and my heart was broken. I couldn't see anything, only clouds.
But Diego was worst than me. He wasn't able to talk. Not a single sentence. It was our second night blowing the scatman's stuff.
My hands were shaking... I tought I was Mohammed Ali drowned by Parkinson.
Diego was dying. But I could see he wanted something.
-Milk- he whispered. I need milk.
I got him some milk. He drank three glasses of milk than he puked.
I was so anguished that I threw the rest of the coke in the sink.
-What are you doing, you fucker?
Too late, the coke was gone.
Diego was so mad he kicked me out of his house. I sat in the park just beside the train tracks on Van Horne (Diego would say Van Horny...). Then, I stopped a taxi and went home.
Sunday
I was in mortal agony in my bed.
I was so lucky, that Diego wasn't pissed out anymore and came by my house in the afternoon with some pot he grew up this summer somewhere in the countryside.
We smoked some zeppelins and felt a little better, good.
The van was gone. We put it in our noses. The rest of it was gone in the sink.
At least, we were alive.
On monday, when I was drinking my coffee, I felt like a very old man.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
sarahjane:
thanks for commenting on my set dear
luckie:
Thanks for the comment on my set!