Requiem for a Dream

by Hubert Selby Jr

  Things went well. Tyrone ran into Gogit almost immediately and he gave him Marions number and Gogit made his usual rounds finding out who wanted to cop and pretty soon Tyrone was out of stuff and had to go back and replenish his supply. By the time he got back to the neighborhood there were a lot of anxious junkies waiting for his stuff, the word having gotten around that he was putting out a good bag. Tyrone felt the excitement run through him but he stayed cool and didnt feed that incipient hysteria within him while fighting the urge to take another taste. He was glad that he had a tase though so that he could stay cool and he told himself to hang loose and take care of business and then worry about having another tase. He knew the streets and the scene and knew how to hang tough and trust those instincts that he developed through his twenty five years of living that enabled him to survive the streets from the Bronx to Harlem and he figured if he could survive those streets baby he could make it any fuckin where an that aint no boolshit jim. An mstincts were razor sharp tonight. They had to be. He had to let people know he was holding, but as soon as the word was out that meant there would be people tryin to rip him off and theyd just as soon cut your throat as light a cigarette Ones the same as the other to those cats jim. Theys some down and dirty dopefiens baby, so Tyrone distributed his stash in a few places and made sure no one was following him when he took the bread and went to get the stuff. He was extra sharp and extra alert because he believed that this was his chance, his one chance and didnt think there would be another one. Twenty five years was a long time to live in the world he lived in and he knew that the chances to get out of it rarely, if ever, came along and this was one and he wasnt going to let it go. He wasnt sure how all this happened, how he happened to be holding so much stuff and takin in the bucks, it seemed like it came out of some sort of dream, but it was here and he wasnt going to let it go. And he knew if he didnt stay sharp jim it would be more than the dream that he would lose. And he was tired of losing. These streets were made for losers. These streets were ruled by losers. He was on his way up and out. An he didnt so much care about having a big ass El Dorado and a stable of fine foxes . . . sheeit, one ol ladys enough for me. What Tyrone wanted more than anything else was not to have any hassles. Thas it baby, no hassles. Thas all ah seen all mah twenty five years. Somebody always hasslin somebody. Somebody always gettin up side somebodys haid. If it aint the man its a brother. Aint nobody ever satisfied. That scag get into your blood jim, or that juice, and you go scufflin and beggin for a fix or a drink. Sheeit, that jus aint for me baby. Uh uh, no way. An ah aint no greedy ass mutha fucka. Jus enough to lay back with a little store—sheeit, ah doan even care what kind jim, a dry cleaners, a television, just somethin to keep me an mah old lady doin fine an not have any hassles. You know, a nice little place outta the city. In the suburbs somewhere. Ah dont know, maybe Queens or even Staten Island. Jus a house and a car and some fine threads and no hassles. Sheeit, we doan even need no garden or no nothin man, just be free an easy jim like ah loves you and you loves me . . . sheeit, you doan have to love me jim, you can hate mah black ass, I jus dont want no hassles.

  Harry strolled around the neighborhood, letting a few people know he was holdin, then sat around a candy store for a while, drinking egg creams and reading stroke magazines. He did some business from the store and when they closed he stood around the streets with a few guys he knew for a while, then moved on to a bar, then to another one, never staying in one place too long. When he sold out he stayed for a while seeing who wanted what. A guy he had known for a long time, Bernie, told him he was going to cop for a bunch a guys and hed be back in an hour so Harry went back to the pad and picked up another load and offd that too before going to Marions. Tyrone called him later an told him how much he had offd and when they added up their sales they had enough for a piece already and things were just starting to move. Sheeit baby, now that a couple a cats knows what we got wes gonna be outta shit before tomorrow night. Im hip. As soon as we off enough to get two more pieces we'll cop, eh? You gawddamn right jim. Ah wants to get as much of that shit as we can. Groovy. Give me a call later if I dont fall by first. Later baby, and Tyrone hung up the phone and bebopped to his pad. It was a long assed night jim an he sure would be glad to get his pretty little ass in bed. He could feel the sweat runnin down his back. He had spent a lot of time in the streets, but these past hours had been the worst of his life. He had never thought too much of the streets except to know he wanted to get away from them. But they had never been such a personal threat before. He could roam the streets day or night and it didnt make any difference who might walk by or pull up behind him, but now it was different. You bet your sweet ass it was. He never had anything to lose before. He never had anything anyone else wanted. He was just another black cat, another brother, scufflin and tryin to make it through one more day in this honkys world. Nobody feared him and he didnt fear nobody. He just giggled and scratched his way through the streets. When you know the streets an stay away from the nuts, those drunken madmen who run around with butcher knives and guns, then theys just streets that you got to beat, but when you got somethin that somebody elses is wantin then you got trouble jim. Then its more than just concrete and tar you got to fight . . . you got to be fightin the fuckin crazies that those streets put into dudes. One of those cats by himself is alright. An the streets by themselves aint no big deal. But when you puts them together you got the mutha fuckin crazies jim an then you got to look out for your ass. An when you got somethin somebody else wants you got some trouble and when that somethin is shit an you walkin those streets you got some serious trouble. Sheeit. Its a bitch jim but the only way to beat those streets is to make them work for you. You just got to out hustle them mutha fuckas man.