12/3/2023 0 Comments Mother load free download![]() ![]() ![]() I sucked it in like a human vacuum cleaner, determined not to let any of it get away. The powder began to smolder and a metallic smoke spiraled upward. With a straw gripped in my teeth, I held a flame a few inches underneath. I poured a generous line of the white, glassy powder onto the crease of six-inch-squared-off tinfoil. Besides, I couldn’t get enough of it inside me fast enough. We used to split everything down the middle but due to increasing paranoia, I had convinced myself Max was doing speed behind my back. When the coast was clear, I rushed to the master bedroom and pulled out a stash I had tucked away earlier that day. Within minutes Max and Cat headed out the front door to the connections across town. I figured that’s what happens when you’re married to someone for twenty years. I had heard the recycled-speed-freak jokes before, just like I had heard all of Max’s jokes. It’s never too late to score from a meth connection.Ĭat laughed, while I blankly stared off in space. Giiirrrrlll, you know speed freaks don’t sleep, he wagged his finger. The dealer, wanting to cut down on foot traffic, had assigned Max as the middle man and for his efforts he’d get a cut of whatever he bought. I came by to see if it’s too late to score a gram? He was rubbing his jet-black curly hair with a towel. He was still in good shape in spite all the drugs we were doing. He had a botched tattoo of my name over his heart and on his right bicep a tattoo that said MOM. Why does this bimbo refer to me as a ma’am? Is she trying to imply I’m old? How about I smack you upside the head with your puppy purse, you blond dimwit? I flashed her a phony smile. I hadn’t gotten any real sleep in days and was just about to call it a night when she knocked.Ī fringed leather purse bounced off her hip as she sashayed to the couch.Ĭat sat down and fondled it like it was a puppy, Oh this thing? I got it for ten bucks. ![]() My sixteen-year-old, Jerry who had grown to nearly six feet overnight was staying at his friend’s house a few blocks away. Our nine-year-old son Rikki had fallen asleep while playing with his GI Joe’s in his bedroom. Come on in, I said, quickly shutting the door behind her. Opening the door a crack, I looked over Cat’s shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed. What set us apart from other parents? We were smoking copious amounts of methamphetamine. We would go to Disneyland, attend little league games, participate in the school bake sales and enjoy an occasional Sunday Bar-B-Q. We had two boys and managed apartment complexes with a swimming pool in a quiet suburb of Los Angeles. It was the early nineties and my husband Max and I were living the so-called American Dream. It was obvious that she was doing a shit load of meth. She had scored earlier that day and was back for more. When I looked out the peephole of my front door, Cat, a twenty-four-year-old tweaker, was standing in a cropped t-shirt and skintight jeans, her blond hair covering one eye, peek-a-boo style. ![]()
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