My coworker with a coke problem—look, if you like the booger sugar, you might catch these jokes, but not judgement.
Anyway, my coworker with a coke problem was like “Hey, Onicia. I’m going to visit your island and I kinda, you know, [snort] I kind wanna party a little bit. Hook me up with the local drug scene.”
As a child of D.A.R.E., the chant “Users are losers so don’t be an abuser” is often replayed in my mind. That said, I do know several crackheads. Wanting to be a great ambassador for my island, I hooked my coworker with my friend Rebecca, a certified junkie.
Two weeks later she said, “Onicia, Rebecca is an animal. We went to the dealer’s place not once, not twice, but six times in one night!”
So, first of all, I did not realize that all crackheads were not created equal.
After a moment, the second part of my coworker’s statement settled—these two powder queens went to a dealer’s spot SIX TIMES IN ONE NIGHT!
The night is only eight hours. Don’t you need time to drive back home, do ze drugs, and enjoy le high before bugging the dealer again? I dunno about you, but if I needed to make multiple trips because I wasn’t able to properly scratch my itch, I’d start to suspect that the dealer might be cutting my baking soda with coke.
Das right, your baking soda might be laced.
But let’s say they were dealing with an honest dealer. Isn’t the point of going to the trap house to get enough so you can get high? I highly doubt they were playing it conservative. If I was the dealer I’d be like heaux, stop knocking on my door like you da Feds. Decide what you want at home, order it, and leave me ‘lone!
Can you imagine going to McDonald’s six times in one night?
Listen, if I roll up saying, “Girl, I got McDonald’s money!!!” You know we getting at least one meal. And if we go back a second time, it’s for dessert. There’s no way I making six trips.
No! If I say we’re gonna have a McDonald’s mukbang, we’re rolling up to the Dollar Menu and getting all da goodz.
In my professional sober person opinion, if you’re snorting dat crack cocaine, you gotta be so F-ed up by trip number three that there’s no way you can make it from the couch to your driveway, let alone the dealers. I wanna know who was driving?!
What kind of super crackhead powers did my friend Rebecca have? What kind of money was my coworker making? We were working the same job and I barely could afford to ball out on fast food.
I guess that’s what life is, right? Some of us pay student loans and some of us are buying coke. And some—the one per cent—are doing both.
Shout out to the dealers who force their clientele to practice moderation.
Award-winning Caribbean comedian, Onicia Muller’s weekly humour column, Just Being Funny is chicken soup for the naive sceptic’s soul. You can hire her to write anything from blogs and newsletters to
bathroom poetry funny greeting cards. Join her newsletter for funny stories and stand-up comedy. OniciaMuller.com
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