Recently, I learned that Heine Askadarian, the creepy older guy we used to buy drugs from when we were kids, died in his sleep. A real shame.
Back when I was a kid, it was hard to get the really hard stuff without going downtown or to rougher parts of town. Heine was this guy in his fifties who lived alone in a house where the lawn was never mowed. I used to buy smack from him when I was eleven. He was just up the street. Where will the kids in my neighborhood get their drugs now? A real shame.
This is what is happening in America. These creepy older guys who sell kids drugs are dying off in droves. The pandemic may be moving this along (I'm not sure, haven't seen the stats). What is filling the void? Well, millions of people are lining up at church doors, banging on them to get in, but churches are at full capacity. They can't pack anymore people in there.
Heine Askadarian was born in 1950 to immigrant parents. He never married, preferring instead to spend the late 1960s doing drugs, and eventually drove his parents to kill themselves with his paranoid drug-fueled rants. He often threatened them with bread knives and wooden spoons. Once, he took his mother out back and beat her with a ladle for all the neighbors to see. And people wonder why they chose to kill themselves. They were weak. They were putty in the hands of their strong, masculine son.
Heine Askadarian was the one who introduced me to the works of Grits Gresham. He had a lot of interests. He put a needle in my arm for the first time when I was ten. I didn't even ask. He talked me into it. They don't make 'em like that any longer. Heine is the kind of man for which the word "winner" is never overused.
He was so cool. He'd answer his door, drunk off his ass, at eleven in the morning in just his boxer shorts. He would tell us kids, "I'm ravenous." If one of the kids went in there at that point, they didn't come out "the same." Great guy. He grew on you.
If you've ever walked down the street and seen a frail older person who is just barely walking, and you've wanted to shove them down and say, "This is my oxygen now," know that I have done it and will do it again. Most do not get up. I can't help it if they can't handle a joke. Stupid old people. They are NOT sexy at all. Gross to imagine sex with them. All their skin falling off. Skin tags. Liver spots. Who needs that shit. Gross. One of them was struggling once, after I pushed him down, and I squatted over that motherfucker and urinated all over him. Serves him right. This is my world now. He's just wasting space in it. Gross.
Heine Askadarian wasn't that kind of an older person. He was hip to what was going on TODAY. He wanted to be in the thick of things. Not off at home crocheting some shit blanket and watching their "stories." Fucking waste of oxygen. Gross. If we have to have old people, can't we keep them out of sight, PLEASE?
Some people knew Heine Askadarian as The Left Arm. I did not know him by that name, like at all. Therefore, I really don't know what to say since I do not know the origin or the meaning of the nickname. Maybe another noder knows Heine Askadarian and can help fill in the blanks. Did you know Heine as The Left Arm? Let me know. We can do something about it.
It was good that he got us drugs. We would have gotten into trouble getting them somewhere else. My friend Sally Stuckey went downtown when she was eight to buy crack for her habit and she got knifed by a hooker. You can't be too careful these days. She thought Sally was "a bit young for the stroll" and took her out. There are guys who go for that sort of thing. Heine wasn't one of those men. He was one of the good guys.
You bought your drugs from Heine or bad shit could happen. That was how it was in my neighborhood. I'm sorry if you didn't have a Heine Askadarian in your neighborhood and kids got addicted to bad stuff. We only got the good stuff. It was non-addictive. Heine Askadarian made sure of it. Like I said, he was one of the good guys. His stuff was pure.
There was a fire at Heine Askadarian's house in 1999. Some kids were there making tie-dye t-shirts with Heine when the whole batch of tie-dye exploded. Eleven kids died, but Heine was able to save the kid that was closest to him, and was hailed as a hero. That is why the intersection of Third and Columbus is now called Heine Askadarian Square. Because he saved that kid. Heroism in action, ladies and gentlemen. Heroism in action (someone ought to node that - good topic).
I once had a bad case of the chicken pox, I went to see Heine Askadarian. He has all kinds of natural remedy type action in his shed. He took me out there. He was just wearing his boxer shorts and a way too tight t-shirt that said "Columbus Day 1972" on it. That was pretty cool, but what was cooler was when he put a pasty substance all over my body and the chicken pox stopped itching.
Heine Askadarian had washboard abs even though he just sat around all day doing macrame, drinking, and doing drugs. He also made a lot of tie-dye t-shirts and hemp baskets. No wonder they named a public square for him. The taxpayers paid for that whole thing. There was even a ceremony. Good on Heine Askadarian. Glad he lived to see his name enshrined by the chamber of commerce and the mayor, who is also head of the local DARE chapter. What a time to be alive.
So, the next time some bullies get up in your face and say, "Are you talking about Heine Askadarian?" you can now say, "Yes, I am in fact talking about Heine Askadarian."
Heaven just got another spoonful of sugar sweeter, my friends.