Huaco Kid

He also wrote a wildly successful Broadway musical.

I googled it, and the consensus is exactly what you said. And I also found out that the brain can completely survive many minutes of total and complete death. That means it's still functioning for many minutes after you die. That means it knows you're dead! Wicked! And because pain is just impulses sent to your brain, and interpreted as pain, and your brain is still working..... depending on how you go could be excruciatingly painful for a long while after you die. Try not to think about it.

I've heard that your hair keeps growing for a long, long time after you die. He'll look like Cousin It, pretty soon.

We'll just go, "Huh.", fire up a hurricane lamp, find beer and wine, and get out the cribbage board. If it's days or weeks, read a lot, or spend a lot of time outdoors.

And later, I heard that he ate bullet, and was so F'd up that he didn't die, and drove himself to the hospital. Where he died.

I met Robert years later. He was off it. And burly (not a skinny freak). And a successful mechanic tending towards racing cars. And married to a great girl.

I graduated with a 3.9.

A bathtub full means you scrape a razor blade all around the sides. To get it all. I don't remember how he dried up all the bathtub. I don't think we took baths. I don't think we had a shower in four years. That's what bikers don't do.

Sometimes tweakers would come around, and wouldn't leave. So we had Bob to deal with them. He pretty much knew that jig.

And he'd have a big party and sell the whole bathtub full. And strangers would eat all our spaghetti-o's and Captain Crunch. But we got free college.

We would be walking home from class, and your eyes would start burning out, two blocks away. Robert. No one ever seemed to noticed or complained.

Robert's crank paid for most of our college. Once a month, I was the 'snort test' They all did needles. I, and others, didn't. So they'd shoot his latest creation, and go woo. Or whatever they did. And I'd snort it, as a test dummy, and they'd go, "Is it good?!!!!!!!" "No. It's like Clorox. I'm not high, and it's killing me. It burns like ****." And they'd go, "Nice!"

We gave the Datsun to our chumpy friends, Passed it on. I told them that the radiator leaked, and ran empty, forever. Just run it dry forever. But no. Billy "Borrows" dumped that silver stuff in the radiator immediately, and the motor chugged, and it never started again. Died right in front of us.

We once were going to the circus in Houston, in the Datsun, and I don't know why there was train-tracks, but we hit, like, a fifty-in-a-row tracks. And the dash billowed smoked, and the car died. So we took the FM converter, out of the glovebox, which was the most lucrative part of the car ($12) , and went to the circus, three miles away, and just left the car on the tracks. And when we were going back, I don[t know why, I guess we couldn't afford a taxi, so we were going to walk 30 miles home, we twisted the key and it started. So we probably drove it another five years. It was a tank.