Burroughs Stocks up on H........
Came at last to Houston where I know a druggist. I haven't been there in five years but he looks up and makes me with one quick look and just nods and says: "Wait over at the counter...."
So I sit down and drink a cup of coffee and after a while he comes and sits beside me and says, "What do you want?"
"A quart of PG and a hundred nembies." He nods, "Come back in half an hour." So when I come back he hands me a package and
says, "That's fifteen dollars.... Be careful."
Shooting PG is a terrible hassle, you have to burn out the alcohol first, then freeze out the camphor and draw this brown liquid off with a dropper -- have to shoot it in the vein or you get an abscess, and usually
end up with an abscess no matter where you shoot it.
Best deal is to drink it with goof balls.... So we pour it in a Pernod bottle and start for New Orleans past iridescent lakes and orange gas flares, and swamps and garbage heaps, alligators crawling around in broken
bottles and tin cans, neon arabesques of motels, marooned pimps scream obscenities at passing cars from islands of rubbish....
New Orleans is a dead museum. We walk around Exchange Place breathing PG and find The Man right away. It's a small place and the fuzz always knows who is pushing so he figures what the hell does it matter and sells to anybody. We stock up on H and backtrack for