Requiem for a Dream Read Free

Oi,
such a son. A goniff. Shes needing you like a moose needs a hat rack.
Come on Abe, we're in a hurry. Just give us the bread. Hurry, hurry.
All the time in a hurry, shuffling around behind the counter,
inspecting the pencils carefully before picking one out to use. You
got such big things to do the voild is falling apart if everything
isnt dont yesterday. He clucked his tongue, shook his head, and
slowly counted the money . . . twice . . . three times—Hey, comeon
Abe, lets get with it. You dig this dude jim? Hes lickin them fingers
and countin that braid ovah and ovah like its gonna change numbers.
He dont even trus his ownself. Damn.
    Mr. Rabinowitz gave the money to Harry and Harry
signed the book. Do for me a favor and veel it over there?
    Sheeit. You know somethin jim, evertime I see you I
work mah pretty little ass off. They pushed the set to the corner and
split.
    Mr. Rabinowitz watched, shaking his head and clucking
his tongue, then sighed, Somethingks wrong ...it just aint kosher
already, it just aint kosher.
    Sheeit. Why you wanna go there man? Why do I wanta go
there? Because they give blue chip stamps with the dope. You know
somthin Harry? You is simple minded. You shouldnt fuck aroun when you
talkin about somethin serious like dope man. Aspecially when you be
talkin about mah dope. Yours I'm not carin about. Just mine. And
whats so great about the dope here? O man, what you mean? Theys just
as many connections right here as there. We could even try somebody
new. New? Yeah baby. We could jus ease on down the street and see who
have the most fingers up their nose and noddin out an we know where
the good dope be, ah mean the outta sight shit jim. An anyways, we
save the cab fare. Cab fare? Who died and left you rich? This moneys
goin for dope man. It aint goin for no cab. Ya gotta take care a
necessities before ya fuck with luxuries.
    Sheeit. You aspect me to ride them mutha fuckin
subways with all them poiverts and winos? Damn. You outta your mine.
They rip you off before you gets anywheres. Hey man, dont go pulling
that lazy ass ol black joe shit on me. Tyrone chuckled, Man, if ah
gotta do some travelin then let me call mah man Brody and see what he
got. Gimme a dime. Goddamn it man, since when do you need a dime to
make a call. Hey baby, ah dont fuck with no phone company. Harry
leaned against the phone booth as Tyrone hunched himself around the
phone and spoke conspiratorially. After a minute or so he hung up the
phone and stepped, forth from the booth, a huge grin on his face. Hey
man, close ya mouth, its hurtin my eyes. You pale-assed mutha fucka.
You shure wouldnt make it in no cotton fields. Tyrone started walking
and Harry fell in alongside him. So whats happenin? Mah man got some
dynamite shit baby an wes gonna get us a spoon. They walked up the
stairs from the subway separately. Harry looked around for a moment
as Tyrone continued down the street, then went to the coffee shop a
few doors away. The neighborhood was absolutely and completely black.
Even the plain-clothesmen were black. Harry always felt a little
conspicuous in the coffee shop sipping light coffee and eating a
chocolate doughnut. This was the only drag about copping from Brody.
He usually had good shit but Harry couldnt go any further than the
coffee shop or they would blow the whole scene, or what was almost as
bad, he might get his head laid open. Actually the smart thing to do,
the really smart thing to do, would be to stay uptown, but Harry
couldnt bear to be that far away from the money and the shit. It was
bad enough sitting here feeling his stomach muscles tighten and that
anxiety crawl through his body and the taste twitch the back of his
throat, but it was a million times better than not being here.
    He ordered another cup of coffee and doughnut and
turned in the stool slightly as a cop, blacker than his doughnut and
bigger than a goddamn Mack truck, sat next to him. Jesus krist, just
my fuckin luck. Try to relax and enjoy a cup