Puggy on the Lam
Later I heard rumors of how Puggy had been slammin’ so much smack his veins had collapsed, making it difficult to hit. Moreover, he had to piggyback his shots when dosing himself.
In order to support his habit, he began pushing for a local dealer who supplied him daily. One day Puggy got greedy and decided to keep all the dope for himself. Obviously he knew he was a dead man walking, because of his squandering; so he went on the lam across the bay to San Francisco.
Needless to say, he would’ve been in a world of hurt once the dope ran out. Not only was this dude plug-ugly, he was also a meat-head. His brains must’ve been scrambled from too much boxing in the pen. In any case, that was the last I heard of him.
Rusty the Mainliner
There was also this dealer named Rusty, who like Puggy, would get high on his own supply. He had banged so much junk that his arms had ugly sores and constantly seeped puss, which he often scraped off with a knife blade. In fact, his nickname was “Rusty,” because of the discoloration and flaky skin on his arms.
Whenever he’d run low on dope and dollars, he’d sell bunk to me or anyone else who had the bucks. The bunk was made by cooking all the water out of a pot of coffee, then scraping up the hardened residue. Then he’d ask the person to shoot their purchase somewhere else, instead of doing it in his apartment. In this way a person would not be in his presence when they discovered the dope was bunk.
Also like Puggy, his veins had collapsed, making it difficult to hit. To circumvent this problem he’d often leave the syringe in his arms after dosing. This avoided the ordeal of seeking out another vein the next time. At other times he’d have someone hit his jugular vein in the neck.