It would be easy enough for me to tell you, about how we dove out on the trap and within weeks were moving hundreds of kilos and landing helicopters in our backyard and all kinds of bullshit. But that’s exactly what it would be. Bullshit. That kind of book is phony and fictitious, not just fiction. Its fake. Any real trapper knows that it just doesn’t go down like that. Nine times out of ten you gotta start from the dirt and work your way up slowly. I’m giving you the real right here. The Untold Truth.
When Hood and I, finally made it back up the hill; we found Shell leaned up against a project building, laughing and talking with some dark-skinned cat with gold fronts. The dudes name I soon found out was Luke.
“What’s up dog? Goddamn what took yall so long? I damn near had to beat these fiends off me,” Shell laughed as he walked up beside us with Luke beside him.
“What’s good Luke?” Hood threw up his fist and gave him some dap.
“Not shit my nigga. I heard you snatched up one of my customers out here. That nigga Edgar was looking for me with that paper. Now you got one of my best dope fiends smoking crack.” Luke sold heroin. More commonly known as “dope” or “boy,” in the streets of the Bull City.
“My fault bru. I aint know who the fuck that cat was. He coulda been the law for all I know,” Hood laughed heartily as he slapped Luke on the back.
“It’s all good. He can play around with that crack if he wants to, cause one thing I know for sure, he “Gots” to have this dope. You ever seen a dope fiend dope sick? Not a pretty sight,” Luke laughed just as hard.
The thing about heroin ladies and gentlemen, is that once you’re on that shit, you “HAVE TO HAVE IT every day! Or prepare to endure a soul baring, bone breaking sickness! People have actually been known to die from dope sickness. Most dope fiends won’t even go to bed if they don’t have what they call their “wake up,” right beside them. Heroin affects the body totally different than cocaine. If its user doesn’t have it where his or her body calls for it, it makes their bones ache, make them throw up, shit on themselves and everything else. Just as Luke said, dope sickness is an ugly sight. It’s a physical addiction, whereas cocaine is mostly mental. Back then “boy” dealers would label their bags, so the dope fiends could distinguish their particular brand of dope, from the next. They stamped names onto the small bags such as, Spiderman, Body Bag, Bonecrusher, Killer K, and Superhead; just to name a few. Another bizarre thing about “boy,” is that if a dope fiend dies of an overdose from a certain named brand of dope, then that’s the dope that people will ride to the end of the earth searching for. I’m talking about they’ll actually roll up on the block and be like “Yo, who got that dope that killed that nigga this morning! They say it’s called Cop Killer! I don’t want nothing but that!” Heroin is also legendary for its dick staying power. They say when you’re on it, your dick will stay hard for hours! That’s what’s notoriously known as “The Dopedick.” I’ve seen way too many young niggas get caught out there, and end up strung the fuck out, trying to fuck the shit outta some broad. They usually succeed in fucking the shit out of the chic of their choice, but also gain a back breaking habit that fills their lives with heartache and pain!
“Man that weak ass watered down dope you selling aint got nobody running,” Hood joked with Luke.
“Nigga you crazy as you look!” Luke stuck his chest out in defense, pulling two mule-knots out of his pockets. “Ever since that nigga and his bitch died off my shit three weeks ago, I’m the motherfucking dope king from here to Virginia! Guaranteed to keep a nigga dick brick for three days,” Luke spoke with an evil grin, nudging Shell in the ribs with his elbow. “Aint no more middle man shit either. I get my shit straight from African Dave. Raw and uncut. The dope can take a two, but I just put a one on it. He giving me the shit for the low, cause he want me to hook him up with my cousin Sonya.”
“Shit, if he knows like I know, he’ll leave yo cousin Sonya where the hell she at. That broad done had more meat in her than that freezer in the Rocky movie,” Hood laughed.
“Come on dog. Don’t talk about my cousin like that.”
“It is what it is homeboy. It is what it is.”
As Hood and Luke continued to go back and forth about his cousin’s whorish ways, a man and a woman rounded the corner of the building and called Luke’s name. “See, I told you. Here comes two of my loyal subjects now,” Luke stuck his chest out proudly.
“You got that same bag Luke?” The lady whom looked to be about fifty years of age asked him. I noticed that she kept sniffling as her nose and eyes ran snot. Repeatedly she tried unsuccessfully to wipe them both with the sleeve of her shirt.
“Yeah Linda you know I stay straight. How much yall got?”
“We ain’t got but twenty- five right now, but if you give me four bags so me and Calvin can get the sickness off, we about to go boosting, and you know when we get back we gone cop at least two bundles.” Continuously Linda scratched at her arm, wild eyed with desperation and pain. At the time, bags of dope were selling for twenty-five dollars. “A bundle,” is ten bags sold at a discount. Probably between $150 and $200, depending on who you were selling it to. “Boosting” means going into the malls, grocery stores, outlets or anywhere else, to steal everything from pampers to Prada to sell on the streets for a much cheaper price. This is common with dopefiends. They don’t have a choice. They “have to have” their fix.
“I don’t know Linda, shit kinda slow right now,” Luke spoke like he was God, enjoying his moment of power. “Lil Jay got some dope down in the bottom. He can probably throw you something till later.”
“Please Luke! We can’t get our sickness off with that shit Lil Jay got! We need that Sky Walker!” Linda begged for Luke’s specific brand of heroin before she doubled over gripping her stomach as she started to dry heave. Linda and Calvin were good customers, and even if they possessed no money at all, Luke would have given them four bags to get their sickness off. He knew that as soon as they went out and made some money, they’d undoubtedly bring it straight back to him. The denial of the fix was all part of the show he was putting on, to prove to us how badly they wanted his particular brand of “boy.” Calvin finally stepped up speaking for the first time.
“Yeah Luke come on man. Please. You know soon as we get…. AAAARF!!!” Calvin who was tall and skinny with raggedy cornrows; buckled mid-sentence as he fell to one knee and hurled something thick and yellow from deep within his insides onto the concrete!
“Goddamn man! What the fuck!” I yelled turning my back on the whole scene. Shell and Luke found the whole thing hilarious. I glanced over at Linda and I’ll be damned if she didn’t look like she’d aged ten years in five minutes!
“Here take these four bags, and you better hurry the fuck back!” Luke shoved the four bags into Linda’s hand, and Calvin damn near tore her arm off trying to get at his! I thought they’d use something to scoop the dope out with, but to my amazement, they both simply ripped off the top of their bags, and in one swift vacuum sucked motion, inhaled the light brown powder from inside. In complete awe, I watched as Linda’s nose and eyes stopped running almost instantly! Her stooped over posture erected itself to boarding school straight, and as if by a miracle, the years slowly started to descend from her face! She was once again, a 26-year old, beautiful young black female. Calvin wiped the rest of the vomit from his chin, straightened his back and stood up smiling like an insane fool.
“Whew! Thanks Luke! We getting ready to hit the malls now. You don’t need nothing?”
“Yeah bring me back some butter Timbs. You know my size. And hurry up. Its already seven o’clock.”
“Ok Luke baby, we’ll be back in a couple hours. Make sure you got at least two bundles of that same stuff.”
“Yeah, I got it. Just make sure you got my fuckin money!”
“We will, we will,” Linda said with a final smile, as she and Calvin disappeared around the building just as quickly as they had come.
“I told ya’ll I got this dope game on smash out here.”
“Yeah whatever nigga. I don’t want no parts of it,” I said and I meant it. Hood stood over by the side of the building, slinging rocks hand over fist. We hadn’t cut anything up yet, so he was selling straight off the ounce. “We got our own paper to make Luke, so we’ll holla at ya. Let’s roll Shell.” Shell gave the nigga some dap and we left to go see what was up with Hood who was still surrounded by crack fiends.
“Looka there! Three hundred dollars just like that!” Hood yelled excitedly as we approached. Actually, if he’d added the two hundred he’d snaked away in his sock, the total would have been more like five hundred in less than five minutes! “I told yall this block paper is where it’s at! I made this lil change so quick I haven’t had time to breathe! I ain’t hardly touched this ounce either!”
“Yeah that sounds real good. But what the fuck you still holding our bread for?” I asked snatching the money from his greedy paws.
“Oh, my fault my nigga. I was just holding it for you,” Hood answered with that shit eating grin that I was starting to despise. “Come on its getting late. Time to go hit Kats crib and see what’s popping up in there. I don’t know who the hell ya’ll got this blow from, but they looked out like a motherfucker!”