Is this decaffeinated coke?

I find myself listening to a lot of Sinatra. Do you? If so, do you want to hold hands?

I like you.

Exaggerating Rumours life tip no. 34543 – 34542: When doing cocaine for the first time, don’t hang out at the chief of police’s house.

It went down like this –

Eurofriend was looking after his newlywed sister and bro’n’law’s place while they where honeymooning each other somewhere near water and better weather. Before they departed and the house was officially handed over for a couple of weeks, Dave - newlywed male - handed Euro a gram of the ol’ nose candy. Dave, I may add, is universally understood to be, by everyone who has met him, a rather giant knob of a bloke. He actually sniffed coke on his wedding day behind his new brides back, and regularly espouses conversations that feature his desire for nubile young blondes. He’s a knob of a bloke that happens to have drug connections, which, when balanced out, makes him somewhat of a cool guy.

I guess we all have our price.

Anyway, far too much back story. It was Saturday night, I was at Euro’s sister’s place with a rolled up $20 and a line of coke. Had never done it before. Euro was half a pro, having traveled to Malta where drugs fall from trees and police pull you over and fine you if you’re under the requisite limit for illicit drugs on your person at any given time.

So what did I do? Accidentally blew out of the makeshift straw scattering my line across the bench. I would have been embarrassed if I was someone who still had the capacity to feel embarrassment. While the others wasted energy laughing, I set about reconfiguring my line, then I sniffed that bitch up like a government that is owed Capital Gains Tax from Donald Trump.

I stood back and concentrated on my vital signs. There is always an excitement when you take a new drug and you wonder what new wonders of feeling await you. I kind of stood there like Violet from Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory experiencing her everlasting gobstopper for the first time. I felt a slight buzz but nothing really. I told the others in the room who were looking at me, “I feel a light buzz, but nothing really.” No one was happy with that.

Euro snorted his line then told me to clean up the bench, which involved me sticking left over cocaine residue onto my finger and rubbing it on my gums. Nothing really mattered at this point. The television showed that Essendon was leading Richmond by 3 points and a night of wicked beats and armageddon on the streets awaited us.

*listens to Sinatra. Sips red win. Farts.*

Anyway, we left the house and hopped into daz’s car. It was at this stage that I realized that I couldn’t swallow properly. My throat was completely numb. It wasn’t a good feeling. “Is your throat supposed to go numb on this shit, I can barely swallow my beer?” “Ahhh…” Euro had to think for a bit. “Yeah, it does.”

I wasn’t expecting this. I had naively assumed that ten minutes after a hit I would be trading shares on Wall Street while getting head from a blonde random. I didn’t expect to feel like I’d just come from a dental surgery after having a tooth extracted. People pay for this shit?

We had to pick up Ben who used to be my manager at work, before he quit and had a going away dinner one hour previous to my introduction to cocaine. During the dinner we’d offered to take him out for a drink. Daz pulled up out the front of the house he was staying at, then dropped a bombshell. “The guy that lives here is the chief of police.”

“Hehehe, cool”

“No really, he is. He’s senior sergeant constable (or something similar) in this precinct.”

Euro and I were both feeling the buzz coming on stronger. We looked at each other and decided we weren’t up for that particular introduction; we’d stay in the car and wait while Daz and Tim went in and got him.

The others left, the car was dark and empty and Euro and I were buzzing harder and harder. I remember talking absolute shit, then realizing, then asking Euro if talking shit is a symptom of coke. It is. Daz and Tim were taking ages, each second felt like a minute, I felt frustrated that I wasn’t trading shares and getting head from a blonde random.

About an hour later (5 minutes actual time) Daz opens the door and says that we should go inside for a quick drink with the others. The others included work people and one chief of police. I stretched my face out, rolled my shoulders and decided that I could so totally pull this off. Inside we went.

(To be considered for continuation)


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Satanic rituals come in all shapes and sizes.