Citation: Photopiate. "There was Definitely a Pop: An Experience with Cocaine & Ambien (exp60510)". Erowid.org. Feb 22, 2007. erowid.org/exp/60510
There was definitely a pop. A distinct click and then some apparent swelling. At least, I’m pretty sure of it. Vision’s all distorted, but it’s all good. Bill and Joe are sitting over there. They’ll know what to do if something goes awry. I mean, Hell, they’re the ones that taught me how to do this junk in the first place.
“Dude, you good?” Bill’s chuckling, looking over at me through bleary, weaving eyes. I nod, unable to speak. My eyes roll back in my head for a moment, and through the buzz of supersonics raging through my head, I hear Joe chuckle in that labored, breathy laugh I know oh so well.
I fall. Not far, but I know I’ve just lost control of my body functions for the next few minutes. I hit the carpet with a thud. Nothing to do right now except shake and orgasm. But this time, this time it’s different. Something… subtle… isn’t right. I feel it creeping through me, a spoon-warmed heat-seeking missile about to hit my heart and disperse into a million million shards of ecstasy. It’s like that every time, and it doesn’t matter what any one tells me, there’s no way I can capture it in words. This time though, this time, there’s something extra along for the ride, something evil, something new.
Bill laughs, a cigarette bouncing in his lips as he says something to Joe. I can’t hear what it was, but they’re both looking at me, giggling. Sound’s not working right now. The ability to hear should have come back by now. I’m deaf, and I think I’m starting to go blind, but I can’t formulate the words. I’m still orgasming, still exploding like fireworks throughout every inch of my body, still raging with fueled fires I have no way of extinguishing except by waiting for the fuels to burn strong, hard, bright and then out.
My heart’s doing… something. I can feel it… skipping. My skin is starting to crawl, but I’m still blinding. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear Joe and Bill talking.
“Is he OK?”
I start to sweat. I’ve been sweating all night, that part is normal. This new sweat is nothing like I’ve ever felt. My whole body is wringing itself clear of moisture. I know what’s happening now. I feel another pop. I’m crystallizing inside, I can feel the crusty exterior of a hard candy shell about my person, and I realize I can’t move. I open my mouth and cry out, not in ecstasy, but in sheer fear of the reality that has hit me.
I think I just OD’d. I’m scared, but I’ve got to remain calm. I’ve got to keep my wits about me. Joe and Bill will take care of this, I know it. They wouldn’t just leave me to die here in the corner of this shitty little one bedroom apartment in Kansas City. They’ll get me somewhere. I roll my eyes up at Bill, who’s now standing over me.
“Fuck, he’s blankin’ out,” I catch, as Bill grabs at my eyeball and peers in.
I can’t hear Joe, but he’s jumping around and moving about frenetically. The coke will do that to him after a while. All he can do is shake and move. Joe’s saying something, but I don’t know. Bill’s nodding agreeably, and all I can do is watch what’s happening from a seat way in the back of the movie theater of my mind. I’ve lost control of my other body functions, and am just a guest in a dying shell.
From the echoes of distance and time I hear the word “hospital” and I know I’ll be alright. Bill rocks my head back, and I watch from my seat in the dark theater as he puts a pill in my mouth and rubs my throat until the involuntary action of swallowing is induced. He reaches down and pulls the needle out of my arm, recaps it, and throws it away. I watch from the darkness as my body is hoisted over Bill’s shoulder. Joe’s in a craze, ranting and raving about something, and the words “can’t go to jail” ring out into the theater. I sense bounding, which I recognize as steps. I’m in the back seat of a car, and it’s rattling down the highway. The lights of the city ripple past my vision. They’re taking me to the hospital. I just have to hang on for a little… longer.
The city lights go dark, and my fear is amplified by my confusion. My head rolls up on the door handle, and I can see stars through a clear, city lamp-less night. Something else is starting to wave over me in billow rolls of grogginess. Something eerily… peaceful. I think back to what we had that night. Joe scored the coke, and Bill brought the heroin, and my…
My creeping fear was starting to gallop as I realize what Bill had given to me. I had brought the Ambien for sleep after the night’s festivities. I wanted to cry out, but a squeak was all that I could manage. Ambien was the most powerful pharmaceutical sleep-aid on the market. In a few minutes, I wouldn’t be awake, and would be unable to awake for the next 8 hours. It was a drug so powerful, once it hit, I wouldn’t care about anything but sleeping.
The car stopped. The doors opened. I could feel pressure at my legs and my arms. I was going cold. I could feel the heat leaving me through the steam of my chest in the cold of the winter night. Joe and Bill stood over me, talking. There was something digging into the back of me. They had placed me on a concrete bench of some sort, and were looking over me, talking and rubbing their hands together in the cold.
“Hospital?” I said.
Through the theater, I heard “Yeah, Mike, yeah.” I felt the wave of sleep coming over me. I couldn’t hold my eyes open any longer. I slipped slowly away. There was a sensation of falling a great distance. An explosion of cold forced my eyes open one last time. Cold water was everywhere, pulling me, turning my hard candy shell, cracking it in pieces. At this point, I really didn’t care. I was just so tired.
I closed my eyes and let the darkness take over.
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