Free Needle Too by Craig Goodman Page B

typically expect to find himself in crazy-town talking shit while taking a bath in the midst of a stripper celebration. The fact of the matter is that this particular bag of dope was an anomaly of sorts and about twice as potent as the rest of my stash. How it happened to get into the mix I haven’t a clue, but junkies have been known to occasionally check-out after booting bags of unexpectedly potent product. Nonetheless, not long after Toni’s party, the majority of my coworkers—whether they were present for the spontaneous bit of bathing or not—began looking at and addressing me in a slightly different way, often with a head tilted slightly askew as if they were trying to figure me out, or trying to get to the bottom of something unseen or unsaid. Certainly, the After Hours Club figured it out, but every member down to the last stripper had a serious drug problem of their own to contend with and besides, I was able to brush it off as just a momentary slip-up and careful not to ever let it happen again…I mean
in front
of anyone, of course.
    9
    “I knew I’d find you’d living with your mother by now. Wanna know why?”
    “Not particularly,” I said a little sloppily as he happened to have caught me in my special place.
    “Because you’re a pathetic fucking junky with absolutely nothing left in your life other than a drug habit and a bunch of broken dreams—and only a completely desperate, brain-dead dipshit of a cowardly dope fiend would be homeless AND hopeless enough to sacrifice what’s left of his self-respect to move in with his fucking mother!”
    “YEAH…especially
my
mother.”
    “ YOU HAVE TO CUT THIS SHIT OUT!” Alan screamed at me over the phone. “This fucked-up shit’s gonna kill you!”
    “Don’t worry about it, man—I’ve got it under control,” I told him.
    “You’re not in control of anything ! You need to quit using and get yourself into rehab! What the fuck is wrong with you?! It’s been
years
now, Craig, years ! It’s not cute anymore! Time to grow the fuck up!”
    “Trust me, Alan. I can control it. I am a
functioning addict
.
”
    “You’re a functioning
asshole
and besides, that’s absolutely crazy.”
    “Yeah, but it feels so good.”
    “Listen, I’m coming out there soon and when I do you better be inrehab or it’s gonna be a bloody fucking day for you!”
    “Okay, Alan…don’t worry about it, because every little thing is gonna be alright.”
    “But why, man? Why this? Why the
heroin
of all things? I just don’t get it. How could you keep putting yourself through this? Just look at yourself—you’re a dangerous fucking disaster! Please help me understand, man,
please
…why?”
    Why, why, why, why, why…Why would you? How could you? What’s with you? Are you fucking crazy? Why, why, why, why, why?!
    Okay, well here it is…HERE’S the reason why—so get ready. After all, you’ve been so fucking curious! You’ve all been busting my balls about this for sooo long. So…are you ready? Well then get ready cuz now I’m finally gonna tell you something that no one else can seem to figure out:
    I DO HEROIN BECAUSE…
it makes me feel good.
REALLY! I’m serious!! That’s the reason. You don’t believe me? That doesn’t make sense to you? Not to ANY of you??? Okay then—let’s try something else…but let’s not be so confrontational about it. Why don’t you first grab a glass of wine—you know the one, that young but sophisticated French Bordeaux with the raspberry undertones and rich bouquet that pairs delightfully with a porterhouse and a hearty helping of pretentiousness, or perhaps that full-bodied yet crisp and refreshing summer ale that tastes like you’re lying next to a babe on the beach—when you’re really just plowing into one at the intersection or maybe, just maybe you’re the heartier sort that prefers that hot shot of tequila that makes you wanna celebrate and slap the shit out of your kids, because it was ALWAYS CINCO DE MAYO