I haven't been able to get on blogger for 24 hours. I don't know if I was the only one affected but it seems so, since everyone else kept posting. Now I have to catch up on my reading. The first thing I read was written by Jay and the next was written by Jack. These were two serious stories about both of their past's and the huffers they knew. Both, Jay and Jack have an amazing ability when it comes to story telling. They both make you care about the people involved in their stories and for me at least they make me remember the people in my past. I, unlike the two of them refuse to do anything seriously. My apologies to Jay and Jack for stealing your topic. It came back in a flood of memories and I knew, I better write it before I forget it. So keeping with the topic at hand here is my story.
The year was 1987 and I lived on the south side of Austin with my girlfriend Karen. Next door to us there were a couple of girls that worked with her. We all lived on the third floor of an apartment building, it was summer time and the parties never stopped. Usually the doors were just left open and people wandered back and forth from apartment to apartment looking for booze or drugs. The girls next door we'll call Vette (curvy, fast , and sweet) and Dizzy (cute, dumb as a stump).
At the time I was selling pharmaceutical liquid opium. Dip the joint in, let it dry and it made for a wild ride. Basically, smoking a low grade heroin and weed mix. One night we were out of weed, so we were trying anything. That's when Vette's boyfriend Jim came up with the ideal of doing whip-its. For those that don't know you can keep the Readi Whip can upright and inhale the gas in the can, you hold your breath as long as you can, toast some brain cells, and giggle like a schoolgirl. Well Jim had the industrial Readi Whip canister with refills for the O2. So the party was on.
The canister went around the room a few times, everybody taking turns doing brain damage. I think Jim was on his fourth or fifth go around when he turned blue and fell out of his chair. Well being the rocket surgeons we were, we all busted out laughing. After about 10 minutes it wasn't funny anymore. Panic began to set in.
Vette: "Jim. Quit playing."
Dizzy: "Is he OK?"
Some Guy 1: "Dude he's still blue."
Trashman: "Wake him the fuck up."
Some Guy 2 (laughing): "How do you wake up dead people?"
Trashman (screaming): "Karen come wake Jim the fuck up."
Vette: "Jim, don't die baby, I LLLOOOOOVVVVVEEEE YOU."
Karen was the only straight one in the bunch. She came over and felt around for a pulse. She threw water in his face. She slapped him around. Nothing worked.
Karen: "He's dead. He's fucking dead."
Trashman: "We're all going to prison."
Vette: "No. Jim. No. I LLLOOOOVVVVEEE YOU."
Dizzy: "Are you sure he's dead?"
Some guy 1; "We've got to get rid of the body."
Some Guy 2: "HaHaHaHaHaHaHa"
Vette: "Are you kidding? I love him."
Trashman: "Grab his feet. Let's get him in his car and get him the fuck out of here."
Karen had to hold Vette down and keep her quiet while we carried Jim's carcass down stairs and put him in his car. Me, Some Guy 1, and Dizzy drove him way out by the lake and parked his car. We gave it a quick wipe down, slid Jim in behind the wheel, and satisfied that no one saw us we made a hasty retreat back to my apartment. We all took a vow of silence where Jim was concerned. For the next week Vette was kind of mopey but I took her to the Butthole Surfers concert and she perked right up. After the concert we went back to my apartment and the party was in full swing. Somehow everybody knew about Jim. There was 20 to 30 people there and they all fucking knew. I'm pretty sure Dizzy was running her mouth because she avoided me all night.
At around 2:00 am the people were winding down and just mostly sitting around high, drunk, and semi comatose. A few were telling their favorite Jim stories and making toast in the honor of Jim. I threatened to beat a few asses over beer being poured on my carpet. Just as I was getting ready to run everybody out, my door flew open. Vette and Dizzy started screaming like their guts were being ripped out. Karen's legs gave out and she collapsed. Some Guy 1 and Some Guy 2 started doing the backwards spider crawl across my floor. A few people bolted out onto my balcony. It was general pandemonium. I looked up at the front door, right into the eyes of Jim.
Jim: "That was wrong dude. Just fucking wrong. If you're going to dump a body make sure the fuckers dead."
Trashman (laughing): "You WERE dead Jim."
Jim: "Yeah. Well I didn't stay that way."