Junky by Burroughs William S

Author:Burroughs, William S. [Burroughs, William S.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Odyssey Editions LLC
Published: 2010-07-21T04:00:00+00:00

One day I was broke and I wrapped up a pistol to take it in town and pawn it. When I got to Pat’s room there were two people there. One was Red McKinney, a shriveled-up, crippled junkie; the other was a young merchant seaman named Cole. Cole did not have a habit at this time and he wanted to connect for some weed. He was a real tea head. He told me he could not enjoy himself without weed. I have seen people like that. For them, tea occupies the place usually filled by liquor. They don’t have to have it in any physical sense, but they cannot have a really good time without it.

As it happened I had several ounces of weed in my house. Cole agreed to buy four caps in exchange for two ounces of weed. We went out to my place, Cole tried the weed and said it was good. So we started out to score.

Red said he knew a connection on Julia Street. “We should be able to find him there now.”

Pat was sitting at the wheel of my car on the nod. We were on the ferry, crossing from Algiers, where I lived, to New Orleans. Suddenly Pat looked up and opened his bloodshot eyes.

“That neighborhood is too hot,” he said loudly.

“Where else can we score?” said McKinney. “Old Sam is up that way, too.”

“I tell you that neighborhood is too hot,” Pat repeated. He looked around resentfully, as though what he saw was unfamiliar and distasteful.

There was, in fact, no place else to score. Without a word, Pat started driving in the direction of Lee Circle. When we came to Julia Street, McKinney said to Cole, “Give me the money because we are subject to see him at any time. He walks around this block. A walking connection.”

Cole gave McKinney fifteen dollars. We circled the block three times slowly, but McKinney did not see “the Man.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to try Old Sam,” McKinney said.

We began looking for Old Sam above Lee Circle. Sam was not in the old frame rooming house where he lived. We drove around slowly. Every now and then Pat would see someone he knew and stop the car. No one had seen Old Sam. Some of the characters Pat called to just shrugged in a disagreeable way and kept walking.

“Those guys wouldn’t tell you nothing,” Pat said. “It hurts ‘em to do anybody a favor.”

We parked the car near Sam’s rooming house, and McKinney walked down to the corner to buy a package of cigarettes. He came back limping fast and got in the car.

“The law,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

We started away from the curb and a prowl car passed us. I saw the cop at the wheel turn around and do a double-take when he saw Pat.

“They’ve made us, Pat,” I said. “Get going!”

Pat didn’t need to be told. He gunned the car and turned a corner heading for Corondolet. I turned to Cole, who was in the back seat.

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