Like Rick James said “cocaine is a hell of a drug.” The craziest thing about my coke use is that I cant recall a single time I actually enjoyed doing it. Yet I did a shit ton of it for 15 years. Coke made me twitchier , I walked around with a “cold” all the time and it guaranteed my dick wouldn’t work.

From my experience coke brings out all the shittiest people to hang out with.  People who hate each other will stay up all night ripping lines talking about saving the world. The only reason any of them are there is because one of them has coke.

The yacked up conversations are by far one of the worst parts about doing coke. It usually ends up a bunch of random assholes in a room or a kitchen all fucked up, talking about shit they most likely will never do. Just thinking about it while writing makes me feel a little sick. But Ill get off my soapbox and tell my story.

One of my college roommates was a skinny, angry redneck that chain smoked Newports. He had short little T Rex arms and kind of looked like he may have had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  He was loud and offensive.   However, part of me found him hilarious. He always spit when he spoke and his breath reeked of smoke. We called him the Squirrel Master. The name stemmed from squirrels invading the walls of his room and his stories of making squirrel potpie when he was younger.

We used to compete in really stupid and dangerous contests. Like who could do the most coke in a given amount of time or who could do the biggest line. One night we finished an 8 ball in less than 25 minutes. I ended up laying in my bed praying not to have a heart attack. He went out partying all night. Advantage….Squirrel Master!

Sometimes sniffing coke just wasn’t enough. We would step up our game and get creative. So we would break out the tinfoil, a splash of water, a lighter and an emptied out pen. If you use all the ingredients correctly, ta-da, you can smoke freebase.

Freebasing seemed to be more of a Sunday afternoon type thing for the Squirrel Master and I. I’m not quite sure why, but its just how it went down. One Sunday afternoon we ventured upstairs to his room in the attic and got everything prepped. Tossed the water on the coke and melted it down on the tinfoil. It was time to get down! We started taking a couple pulls of the shitty metallic tasting smoke through the pen .

The Squirrel Master was really fucked up and just had that twinkle in his eye that said “Im going for it.” He lit up the lighter, hit the tinfoil and pulled a giant cloud of smoke in through the pen. He held it in for as long as he could and then it happened. His eyes rolled back in his head and he unleashed the most vicious hacking cough I have ever heard. He fell out of his chair and hit the floor. He continued coughing violently and tears started rolling down his face.

When I saw him on the floor I ran downstairs as fast as I could. Now I’d like to tell you I went to go get him some help. But, Nope! I went and grabbed the rest of my roommates to come see what had happened. My friend could have been having stroke for all we knew. But, we were too busy doubled over, half in tears pointing and laughing at him to care.

The Squirrel Master came out of his coughing fit just fine. Well as fine as you can be when your whacked out on Freebase. He joined in on the fun and started smiling and laughing as usual. The first thing he did when he got his composure was go right back to that tinfoil, take a hit and then light up a Newport.

Clearly we were shitty fucking friends.