What can YOU say in six sentences?
My man Cherokee stayed out in the mix for 44 years, with time out for jails, etc., and when he finally came into NA his eyes were two x-es and he didn't talk for five years; suffice it to say that he lost the war and had enough sense in the nick to surrender.
Long time and distance, however, have lent his war stories an odd sort of charm--comedy! adventure! cheap thrills and spills!--like the time he got trapped with two skunks in a closet.
Blame Hogjaw, man: the closet was Molly's and she was a ho, and Cherokee served as her sweet candyman, and Hogjaw, of course, was a vice cop she tricked with--we called him Pig Cheeks by way of no harm--and the fucker came over one night unannounced just as Molly was probing a vein in Cherokee's neck, his last vein in life as it happened, and Molly tossed Cherokee into a closet along with a pair of pet skunks she had, and went to the door to let Hogjaw in, her professional smile telling the dickhead, "I'd love to unload your big gun..."
Meanwhile, back in the closet, Cherokee's dying: the fuckers in with him are nature's own stinkbombs, and while Molly had said that she'd had them fixed, who knows with skunks, especially in close like Cherokee was, and then too, there's Hogjaw bouncing not ten feet away in the bed, and it sets the skunks off, and all of a sudden they're dervishes, man, scrambling and scratching and barking like harp seals or something, whatever the sound is they make when they're pissed, and it puts a stop to Hogjaw mid-stroke, and he raises up out of the bed, his ding-dong drooping like seeped-out balloons, and yells out, "The fuck's going on?"
Cherokee is going to die: Hogjaw's a cop and a mean motherfucker, and he'll rip that closet door open, yank Cherokee out and stick those two skunks up his ass, and then go to work with some special D weapons and--
But Molly's right there and she saves the day, yelling at Hogjaw, "You've upset my babies and--oh God, they're spraying!" and Hogjaw stops dead--the whole fucking place smells sort of like skunks, you know, dopefiends' pads, and so you'd think it was not a big thing, but such is the power of suggestion, my man--and Hogjaw's jaw drops and his eyes start to water, he's looking around like he's going to spew loads, and he grabs up his shit and gets in the wind like he just got the news that his house caught on fire, and Molly coos softly, "Come on out, babies," and out come the skunks, and Cherokee too, shivering and shaking like jelly in hurricane weather, you bet, and Molly goes back in his neck and tries for a long time with no luck whatever to send him away to the dream dopefiends dream of...