An Addicts Story

I had become utterly dispondent over a lack of hot tamales. I had been dry for almost a week. But good news travels fast, as it should. My son arrived home from school to inform me that local corner shop was in fresh supply of hot tamales, not the jumbo I must stress. But hot tamales they were in stock.

What ado the news brought about the house. I asked my wife for cash money, bling, bling and all that. "Gimme a goddamn quater," I begged. Her unpromising reply was, "no no-no quaters, dimes or nickles, hot tamales make you crazy. Then she procceded to mock me, to make a lampoon of my desires.

"I know what you'll do you'll go phooo and phooo, sucking in that air. Then tears will roll down your eyes and you will want to french me, because you have no more saliva." Then she walked away, but to my slight concern, not all the away. My wife turned around made that delectable frown, shaking her finger and stated, "just for that, your not getting any tonight, either, hmmmph.".

First concern was her, "either," who was the other I thought. Never mind any of that, the first concern is the hot tamales, I thought. The first-first concern, always a priority.

I rallied myself and made a decision. She had failed to realize where there are hot tamales and a desire, extortion exists. I finagled my son, not only for bling, bling but wheels, his bicycle. Armed with three quaters, that would yield approximately three boxes, of not the jumbo, but hot tamales nevertheless. I hoped on his prized cherry red Raleigh Chopper circa 1974.

As I peddled away on the Raleigh Chopper circa 1974, I could hear a tock, tock, tock. Flat it must be, oh what inhumanity, oh what calamity, I convulsed. Surely this penalty was handed down for the dismissal of my wife's warnings.

As I peddled along and looked down, I noticed a deformation upon the the rear wheel. Some fool, some inconsiderate harlequin, had placed a baseball trading card within the spokes.

I was exorbitantly incensed, I reached down towards the rear wheel to retrieve the card. Disappiontingly I had slightly miscalculated and managed to stick my fingers in the turning spokes. First concern is a first concern, I had dropped the three shinny quaters. My second concern was the extreme amount of pain I was now in.

The Raleigh Chopper circa 1974 began to shake violently, without heed to my guidance. I was then forced to make direct and speedy eye contact with the pavement.

Crawling along the pavement I began on my first concern, recovery of the bling, bling. I spent hours looking hunting using the sun in a glimmer of hope. I must add a cheer for the American people. They were never rude not once, most drove around me, one rather kid gentleman even stopped his vehicle. Asked if I had any identifying hospital bracelet, or medication I may be in need of.

Naturally this gave this fellow American the right to ask for money. I asked, "can you spare three quaters, I am in desperate need of some hot tamales." Sad to report he immediately drove away. Within a few minutes an ambulance, with a police escort and what I believe to be a S.W.A.T van, did arrive to assist me.

A crowd did converge. Among them my son and wife, together they managed to retrieve the Raleigh Chopper circa 1974 and the baseball trading card. I was taken away, given the hospital braclet and some medication.

But no hot tamales. The "just for that, your not getting any tonight, either, hmmmph." Turned into "just for that, your not getting any at all," minus the hmmmph.

Currently 6.67/10
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Rating: 6.7 out of 15 votes cast