excerpt from the book "Black Sheep Ashtray" by Dante Hadley

I have no idea how I ended up in the First Missionary High Church of Crack. I was under the mistaken belief that I was being sent to prison. Naw man, prison is like Crack Mecca. Here is proof: 6 1.The Devotees. They can be identified by various stigmata. a. Recent weight gain (see, in this institution, you are assigned a clothing size when you first come into the system. Changing sizes is a real bitch, so Devotees all wear their uniforms very tight.) Crack heads don’t have time to eat on the streets so when they get rescued (arrested) they tend to eat everything in sight. b. Lack of teeth. I used to think it was the lack of time for hygiene on the street. Who has time to brush when you’re trying to sell a lawn mower or pack of bacon or ass? Wrong. Turns out they just smoked em’ in the crack induced confusion. c. Strange scars with stranger explanations; “What do you mean you got bit by a fucking zebra? Bitch, you from Tampa!

d. Conversational tunnel vision. All conversations invariably turn to crack. Statement: “Man, I hate these runny ass grits. Reply: “But if you let ‘em dry up, they look just like crack. 7 2. The High Priests (read dealers) a. Gold teeth. I haven’t figured out if these are a badge of rank or a hedge against inflation. Mouths blinging like the Vatican. b. The undying devotion of the devotees, who know all of the priests from the streets. c. And then there is the fact that these guys get normal human shoes and cloths that fit in a place where my pants are so baggy I have to tie them up with string and my underwear is so tight that I have to tear them to allow my dick to breathe. Like real churches, the resident deity isn’t physically here but is easily felt. All around me crack and rumors of crack. And the Devotees are always trying to sell you something. Gum wrappers, shoe insoles, used dental floss. Devotees will sell you try to sell you half of a strangers cigarette. I’ve also noticed that nobody here actually smoked crack. To hear then tell it they all sold it. But if you let then talk 8 they always get to the part where they got caught stealing lawn furniture or some such. It appears one of the Devotees has stolen the table I was writing on. And one of my shoes. I hate prison. Get the Book Here!!!