Shiv

As I often did after a hard night of boozing with the gays I would drive down to 16th and Mission to score some Tar. It was always very late and all the bummies would be safely nestled in the cardboard shacks and trash bag tents. I would walk up to the Mexican trannie bar and ask around trying to score. But this one night I got bamboozled. It was a known fact never to ask a black crack head for Tar. They tended to sell you gum wrapped in plastic or shoe polish in tiny balloons. But this particular night I was desperate, and very drunk. Very. I remember wearing a puffy vest, not the tacky kind from Old Navy, but a cute vintage ski vest. It was a chilly SF night and there were few dealers out. When it became evident that I wasn’t having any luck I approached the crack head. “I gots what you need baby” he assured me. I handed him a twenty and he spit out a tiny balloon. Score I thought. As a precaution all junkies immediately place the balloon in their mouth and bite down on the slimy rubber to check the authenticity. Rats! I was scammed. The sweetness of Bubbleyum alerted me. I quickly ran back and confronted the crack head scamster. Bad move. He quickly produce a shiv and stabbed me on my side. Shit. Oh wait, I’m wearing a puffy vest. Soft armour. Have you ever seen a hungry junkie? They can do some desperate shit. It might have been the booze or my sheer lack of class. But I instantly reached for the closest item to attack him with, a wire government trash can. I smashed it over the poor guys head and took my twenty bucks back. And like a true lady I thanked him and went on my way. I did eventually find some real Heroin and when I returned to the car my friends gasped. I had torn my shirt, had stuffing coming out of my vest and had a nice swollen shiner. But I had my tar!