Big Titty Kitty and other family Tales

"Aren't you done in there?!"
He screams from the bedroom.

I guess he is lonely. I invited these two over to my place because they agreed to give me a little taste. Now, I am regretting this choice. He is insane and she is annoying. Getting high with a brother and a sister team reaches a new low in my book. I am not sure why it jiggles my moral compass. The family that gets high together... Yeah it has me all fucked up as I ponder my existence while looking for a perfect spot of useable blue.

I thought the mother and daughter prostituion team was odd, but I guess it is more common than I thought. The mother swore she never "turned her daughter on" to drugs. Yeah, right. MAYBE . Either way, I found it fairly horrifying to see the 44 year old aging woman with her premature dentures and her abscess scars continuing to work the streets.

The woman in black and her daughter were sex workers of opportunity. Dealing, stealing, anything else to make money would come first. But on cold nights and sleepy mornings, desperation would drive one or other into crimes of opportunity. 

I would notice her on my way in and out of the hotel. Sometimes I would go to her for what were called short money bags. A person would buy a half gram or less and break them up into five smaller bags they would sell for $10-$15 a piece in the middle of the night when all the connections were fast asleep. These bags were just enough to hold a broke hustler until the morning. Some days, you could go all day and only put together a few bucks here and there. Any decent dealer would not deliver for less than $50. Street dealers wanted $20. A person buying a short money bag was getting ripped off and was paying for the pleasure of not feeling a thing but perhaps not shitting on themselves for a few more hours. 

When I was released from jail after six long months, the mother was more than happy to take my money and get my drugs for a fee. Her name was a easy to remember - big titty kitty. She had some of the largest breasts I had ever had the displeasure to see. I say displeasure because I like titties as much as anyone else, just not when I get to see them being stabbed by a needle as she searched fruitlessly for a useable vein. Some people would hesitate to get a person drugs who has been clean for awhile. She wasn't one of these softhearted characters. If she needed a fix, she would do pretty much anything. She wore this perfume- the smell of vinegar from tar and crack sweat. 
"I can get it for you." She smiled "no problem." 

She would rip me off from time to time but that was to be expected. She "needed it more" than me and she always paid me back. 

The daughter was 20 years old but looked like she wasn't a day over 16. Or maybe it was the other way around. People lie in the life. Their names, their ages, and why the came to the city are always a mystery. People called her "little bit" because she was so small. Not really small in stature. Her speed habit made her look like a goth elf. Ho ho ho. 

What could I say at this point? Do I have room to judge anyone? Here I was, trying to find a vein in my stomach. One of the dyfunctional wonder twins was trying to find a vein in her foot while her brother now was smoking crack in my bedroom. This day just keeps getting worse and worse. 

The bathroom has no shades, no curtains. I can see in the room across the airwell from me. The garbage is piled almost to the ceiling to the point the cat is so disgusted, it is hanging out the window. Fortunately, the owner isn't home. He is an old 300 pound convict. I've heard from one of the working girls he likes to wear a diaper and be coddled like a baby for $20. I always forget that while I am half naked looking for a vein this guy is probably touching himself with a ham sandwich for lube or whatever else gross shit he does in there. 

Seriously, fuck this day, fuck my life, fuck this shit. I got the vein now and it blows out. My tiny bit of drugs is lost in the no rush zone. I am left with a burning pain in my stomach, empty pockets, and I have to figure out an excuse to get the siblings out of my spot. Another day in junkie paradise. 

All the characters in this story existed. The truth is stranger than fiction. 


Comments

  1. UnknownJanuary 1, 2015 at 8:16 PM

    I can't wait for your book to come out. I can relate to u so well. Unfortunately lol xoxo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415January 1, 2015 at 8:50 PM

      The book is recovery oriented. I usually print my war stories here.

      Delete
  2. UnknownJanuary 18, 2015 at 2:32 PM

    Hi Tracey,
    I saw the HBO documentary you were featured in a few nights back and since then have found this blog site and can't stop reading your stories. I have never reached out to a person of your statue before yet felt so compelled to do so with you. Maybe because of my own struggle in addiction, or the similarities with my disease and yours, or because you are just an inspiration to me. I just wanted to thank you for being so honest in your writing. Your stories are so honest and beautiful in its own way showing the brutal reality of this disease and the lifestyle it bares. So thank you again keep doing what your doing and congratulations on your book deal, can't wait to read it!

    ReplyDelete
  3. AnonymousJanuary 28, 2015 at 2:25 AM

    "Touching himself with a ham sandwich for lube" Ha! Omfg. So, when and where will your book be available?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. traceyh415January 28, 2015 at 6:57 AM

      It will be out through Seal Press in early 2016

      Delete

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