Tiffany Bond  🦞 🇺🇸Verified account

We packed all the shit up. Designer clothes with the tags still on. Hundreds of losing scratch tickets. A lot of pipes. Like, a lot of pipes. There were only two people, how many pipes do you need.

A bunch of organic food and articles about getting fit which seems super weird because the first step is probably STOP DOING METH. Goonies on DVD. Brand new shoes. To do lists, which literally included crimes. I am not joking.

The couch had a huge hole burned in it. There were joints in the bedsheets. And lots of containers of bubbles. Idek what that’s about.

And a box of baseball cards. Like, legit Topps 1988 baseball cards. And I thought, fuck, this is the one real thing they have. This dude is running from the law but he’s carrying around his childhood baseball cards. And I thought, that’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

Until my friend says “did you see this.” And it’s a wooden box. With the woman’s mom’s ashes. So, I guess I know her name was real.

I mean, fuck. Meth is a helluva drug.

So we carefully wrapped it up. Gathered up about $10 in loose change. Put it with all the rest of the stuff in bags and boxes on the porch. And we changed the locks. I hope she comes back to get it. I hope I’m here so I can ask her if she needs a ticket to somewhere.

But no way in hell am I letting her back in. Because, while we’re cleaning out the house, I found some desk organizer trays I had bought. And one of my plates. And a couple of my cups. Meth heads definitely stepped in dog shit in my house while stealing some dollar store shit.