Tag: drugs

Lucy

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Lucy couldn’t wait to take the bandages off, but the doctors said she had a week to go before they thought her eyes would be safe to check.
Her eyes… her kaleidoscope eyes.
At first the colors and reflections of reality were exciting and mesmerizing, but the fascination ended quickly as she found herself completely helpless to perform the most simple tasks: reading and walking around.
Dr. Odd patted her shoulder.
“One more week,” he said. “How would you like to listen to some music, Lucy?”
“Sure,” she said.
And on cue, Billy Shears began to play out of tune.

Party Girl

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Another night, another boring party.
Josie walked out into the hall, picked up her cell phone and dialed her answering machine.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
She was already starting to sweat.
Click.
How exciting.
Her message played in her ear. Same message she’d had on there since the day she bought it.
After the beep, she whispered the filthiest, most depraved phone sex message in the history of mankind.
Hanging up, she headed back to the bar.
Drank herself stiff.
When she came to in the morning, there was a message on the machine.
She played it.
Perfect.

Bad Wine

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As I watch the sailboats slide slowly across the bay, I open our bottle of wine.
“Was it a good year?” my sister asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “Year’s not over yet.”
Aunt Polly used to say that good company makes up for bad wine.
We’ve been doing this for years – bad wine, stale bread, and a ratty old blanket on the shore of the bay.
“Is the sun going up or down?” my sister says.
“I’m not sure anymore,” I say. “Have a drink.”
We used to go out rowing, the three of us.
Don’t ask.
Just drink.

Tequila Joe

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Have another Tequila, Joe. You’re going to need it.
First off, your wife’s fine. So are your kids.
Nothing’s happened to your car, either. Or your house.
And you haven’t been fired from your job.
In fact, everything’s fine.
Now about your football: it’s in a safe place.
Yeah, we all know how much you loved that football. Every chance you get, you tell us how you threw seven touchdowns and ran in three more with that football.
And we’d like you to shut up about it.
You’ll get it back eventually, but for now – give it a rest, okay?

Strange Days

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Strange Days are here again.
Everybody’s been shopping for the Strange for weeks now, waiting for the days when the skies change and the world turns on end for what seems like forever.
The problem with the Strange Days is that you never know exactly how things will turn strange.
It makes it hard to shop, but folks don’t need much incentive to go nuts shopping these days.
Especially with Strange Days around the corner.
Are you ready for them?
You are?
Does this mean you know what the Strange Days will bring?
TELL ME! TELL ME!
TELL ME NOW!

Bum Rush The Charts

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I don’t make the music. I make musicians.
I can take any washed-up pampered drug addict, wrap them in spandex, and you can sponsor their next worldwide tour along with every other crappy light beer brewer.
People eat this shit up, so they need something to wash it down with, right?
And its not like we’ve got competition. Where you brew beer by the tanker truck, radio only has our crap to play.
It’s not payola. It’s… business.
Do we have a deal?
Good.
I propose a toast… what? Use your beer?
No thank you. I don’t drink your swill.

These Are The Pros And Cons

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It’s my Southern gentleman’s instinct, really.
You see a hot chick standing on the side of the road with her thumb stuck out, and you pull over to pick her up, right?
It’s the courteous thing to do.
Courteous ain’t what the other drivers thought. Sponsors and Team Owners, too.
Biggest damn wreck in NASCAR history, all because I’m thinking with my pecker.
That, and fucked up on painkillers and Jack Daniels.
Speaking of which, you think we’ll lose Jack Daniels as a sponsor?
Shit.
I guess I’ll just wash my percodans down with Jim Beam from here on out.

Brassy

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I sat down on my welcome mat and stared at the bizarre doorknob on my front door.
The old brass fixture had been replaced with the talking animated doorknob from Alice In Wonderland.
And it didn’t want to open.
I waved a key in front of its eyes.
“This is the key to my house,” I said. “Now open the door.”
“That key’s dirty!” said the doorknob. “Clean it first!”
“I’ve got nothing to clean it with,” I said. “Open wide.”
“I’ll bite your fingers off!” it threatened, snapping its teeth.
I really need to cut back on the acid.

Toadboy

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My mother did a lot of drugs in her wilder days.
She claimed she took a break for the seven months I was inside her, but I know she’s lying.
My genes are full of errors, minuscule errors in the spirals of DNA in my billions of cells.
Doctors say I should be dead by now. But I’m still kicking, and the nurses keep checking on me around-the-clock.
Every now and then, one sneaks a lick of my skin.
Their eyes roll back, and they shudder with pleasure.
That’s nice, but I wish they’d remember to switch the goddamned bedpan.

My Captain

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When it got dark, The Captain and I climbed out of the bunker for a smoke.
My pack was empty. The Captain had just one.
I watched as The Captain lit up.
“We’ll get more soon,” he said, taking a deep drag. “I’ll smoke half, you’ll smoke half, okay?”
The tip glowed red in the night.
Then, more red.
Laser dots.
He dropped before I could shout.
I sat still, watching The Captain’s body in the tiny glow of the cigarette tip.
No more shots. The snipers just saw him, not me.
I haven’t smoked since.
Now pass the needle.