With our Mardi Gras intermission out of the way, we now resume the tale of Topher begun in February.
Current mood: Stable.
So, I failed miserably at USL and moved back home with the folks, hooked up with some old friends who had also found new tricks, and got a job installing floors with a friend of mine. It was a good job for the time. We got up, went to work, got off, drank 40s, smoked, drank more, and eventually got to the part where we did blow almost every day.
I remember me and my boy going to Reserve all the time to get eight balls and cutting it with Sheetrock, prescription pills, Aspirin “¦ whatever would make it big enough to pass. I even cut the stuff with Sheetrock one night and did it with the guys I sold it to. I was getting to be a pretty sick dude. We’d pick fights all the time, do blow, and take Xanax.
By that point, I had a doctor writing me scripts for 100 Xanax a month, and I was also doing other illegal activities to obtain more of the drug. I saw one friend go to jail, and we shut that script operation down, but I continued to get my doctor’s scripts. I was covered on my insurance, so I paid next to nothing for them and used them to pay rent at my boy’s place.
I even cut the stuff with Sheetrock one night and did it with the guys I sold it to. I was getting to be a pretty sick dude.
I have little recollection of the two years that went by. After a lot of dumb stuff and not really seeing a way out, I decided to move. I was going to run away from the problem and go back to school. So I moved into a trailer in Ponchatoula and went to SLU.
I did well at school for a while and eventually moved to Hammond with a friend of mine. We would move like three pounds of pot a week and never really had much trouble. It was at Lion’s Way Apartments: the students’ choice; well, it was certainly my choice. I knew where to get herb, pills, juice, G, acid, “¦ anything I wanted, really.
The only reason I was able to keep my grades up is because I had a great roommate. He would get me to go to class (or at least sit on my bed and call me a loser until I’d go). It worked. I had a 3.0 for a while.
It was fun there. I used to race guys on foot for money, and we played basketball and a lot of NCAA 99 on the PlayStation. This guy Beau used to come play b-ball with us a lot. He was a really good athlete.
One day, Beau was chilling at the apartment, and some guy came looking for him. The guy knocked and asked if Beau was there. I said, “Yeah” and got Beau.
When Beau got to the door, the guy pulled a .38 on him. Beau grabbed the hand with the gun and started punching him.
My neighbor got up and went for his Glock. But just as he got back, the girlfriend came at Beau with a 40 bottle and tried to hit him over the head with it. My neighbor pointed the .45 at her saying, “Bitch, don’t think about it!”
She screamed, dropped the 40, and ran to the car. By this time, the boyfriend had dropped the gun and took off, as well.
We picked up the .38 and called the cops. They came out and took a report.
I can remember my two neighbors saying “They’ll be back” over and over to the cops. The police told us not to worry about it and they’d take care of it. I thought it was over, too, to be completely honest.
To explain: Beau had been sleeping with this guy’s girlfriend, and the guy found out. He came to our house looking for Beau.
We went on with the day just like any other. We sat around listening to the Big Tymers’ CD and playing NCAA. I did my normal thing, which was to get loaded. I smoked a few blunts, drank some beer, and took an X pill (my first time).
As the night wore on, I forgot about all the trouble. The police called and told us they had arrested the guy, so don’t worry. So I didn’t.
Then some shady cat kept walking back and forth, peering into the apartment for no apparent reason. I got sick of it and went after him. I guess, in my MDMA haze, I failed to see the car down the street (with the lights off) peel out and come toward us”¦
To be continued “¦ Happy Friday!