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Two Junkies

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Tom pulled the needle out his arm as the tourniquet loosened allowing the heroin to flow freely into his veins. "We’re gonna be rich soon," he said as the high began to hit him.

"No we're not," I replied. Just then a needle enter my vein, but maybe a little too deep as some blood shot up. Even on my ghostly white arm I could not find good veins anymore. I didn’t have the body of someone in their mid-twenties. It didn't matter though as all my worries immediately went away as the high hit me. "You’re right, we're gonna be rich soon."

We discussed money often. All Tom and I wanted to be was filthy rich. We both use to have bright futures when we were studying accounting in college, but then as is often the case life happened. Or drugs happened to be more specific. First it was molly, and it was great. The parties went on all night and we loved everything and everyone while on it. It was during was of those trips that we met someone who began dealing us acid.

Tom's mostly hairless pale white arm was around me again. I decided not to say anything. This always happened when he was on heroin. He loved everything and wanted them to love him back. But that would never happen with me, we were friends and only that. I never asked him if he was a homo, and it was better not to know since I would never be seen with someone of that nature. Tom’s habit of wanting everyone to love him was how his troubles began. And it was what would ultimately lead to me never seeing him again.

"We need to go now. Shit, help me, it's got a hold of me," Tom screamed. This was during his first acid trip. A handful of years had passed since then, but that trip was still vivid in my mind. They usually go one of two ways, you float away into a nice fantasy or you are trussed into a hellish nightmare. I was in fantasy land, but Tom was in the land of demons. Thinking he was being chased by Pennywise the Dancing Clown he jumped out a window to escape, only to end up in the hospital and the police being called.

"Order number 22." Tom went up and grabbed our order from McDonalds. Our high was over, but at least the withdraw symptoms hadn't begun. Coming back into reality was the worst part. All we were thinking about at the moment was when dope would be back in our bloodstream. Maybe we would snort it this time, as all our veins had gone to hell. But we both knew that wouldn’t happen as both of us would go on acting as if we were invincible.

"Something on your mind, you haven't said a word," Tom asked me. I kept the silence going. No need to tell him I was reliving our story in my head. Maybe I should have told him, perhaps things would have changed and that day from hell would have never come. It's easy to look back on things, but at that time there was no way I could have seen the disaster coming on us like a typhoon. A junkie only cares about himself.

Tom and I were kicked out of college after that night on acid. "At least we're not facing criminal charges," he joked. I wasn't joking. I should have told him I never wanted to see him again, and that our friendship was over, but I only said one sentence to him that night.

"Let's try something harder, like heroin."

"Sure," Tom replied. It wasn't hard to find some dope on the streets of Philly.

"Are you two cops?" the dealer asked.

"No."

It was that easy. We went back to that same guy from then on.

We both got construction jobs after being expelled. We worked during the day and shot up most nights. It went on like that for a while until Tom came home with news one day. “I knocked up some chick, I'm gonna be a dad." he told me.

"Ok."

Our conversations were usually short. I didn't even know he was seeing a woman, but there was no point in asking about it. At least I knew he wouldn’t be trying to get it on with me now. The major thing that came out of Tom finding out he would be a dad was him wanting more money. Good I thought more money for heroin. We weren't addicts yet but soon would be. But just like every other junkie we told ourselves we could quit at any-time.

It was while watching TV, when I first heard of Tom getting arrested. He hadn't been to our apartment for a week, but I figured he was with his women. The news said he held up a deli and didn't even get away with any money. "Don't come home anytime soon, more dope for me." I said aloud. By that time I was a full junkie, but didn't care. In fact I hoped never to see Tom again, but he was back a month later after being let off with just community service.

"He's probably making five grand a week selling to people like us." Tom told me one dreary night after a day of community service.

"Five grand." I said in awe.

"Damn right, and we could be doing that."

"We should be doing that."

"Hell yeah." That's how we moved up to become dealers. It went great, for a while.

"Looks at all this dough." I said.

"We’re rich."

"It's too easy, all I do is take the dope over the bridge into Jersey, and---"

"Sell it to the rich white folks." Tom finished it for me.

Tom's son Jimmy was born in the mist of our glory days, but he didn't see it that way. "Damn whore won't even let me see my own boy." Tom complained.

I let him go on venting.

"Took him to live with her rich parents at the Jersey Shore."

I felt no sympathy. He was a junkie and a dealer who was becoming rich, he couldn't have it all.

"What the hell is going on with our money," Tom asked one day. Our funds were a little lower, but no need for panic.

"It’s winter. Our dope comes from up North, it slows down now." I told him.

"We don't have enough for ourselves and to sell anymore.” We tried to ration it, but that didn't work.

We saw the couple leaving the movies from a block away. The plan was simple, but didn't work.

"Shit, the bitch sliced me." I screamed. We got no money from our failed robbery, but I had a stab in my stomach and was bleeding badly.

"Keep pressure on it." I told Tom when we were back home. We know it was a horrible idea, but saw no other choice. I had to get to the hospital. Of course with a stab wound the police would be called, but I wasn't about to die.

"No, no, no, not to me." I screamed.

"Get the chair and tie him up." the nurse ordered.

I went through detox next. During that time I wished I had died.

"Where’d that wound come from, son." a police officer asked.

"Look at all those needle marks, just another junkie." his partner replied.

I never answered any of the questions and was thrown in the county jail on highly questionable charges, but it didn't matter to them. I was just a drag on society. Tom and I were desperate now.

After McDonald’s Tom had a great idea and we went with it. “There’s a new shipment coming in this Friday.” he told me. “We can buy five bricks and then we’ll be set for ourselves and our customers for a long long time.” The only problem was where we would find that money so quick.

“Five bricks, come out man that’s pushing it.” I rebutted to Tom’s plan.

“Do you wanna be rich or not.” he shot back.

And with that reply I agreed to the plan and our collision course was set. We arrived at the Jersey Shore one week later. Jimmy’s mom was at work, and we tied up the grandparents so the house was ours free to raid now.

“Remember our acid guy,” Tom asked. “Well I saw him and got us two pills. Let’s try it again.”

I knew it was a bad idea, but went with it anyway. We got all the jewelry and money from the house for our future purchase. For some reason I suggested to shoot up as well. Two drugs at once was a horrible idea, but Tom was all for it, so we did it. For a brief ten minutes our future looked bright. We would have our bricks and plenty of money. It’s the last happy thought I’ve had since. Tom had another bad trip. Just then little Jimmy wandered in.

“Pennywise,” Tom screamed. He picked up a needle filled with dope and held it high. “Not this time. I’m ready for you.” Jimmy looked confused, wondering who these men were. He didn’t react when Tom went charging at him. The needle went right into Jimmy’s bicep. I didn’t even hear Jimmy’s scream; all I heard was a car pulling into the driveway. Tom didn’t even know what he had done and slumped down on the floor convinced he defeated Pennywise.

“Jimmy!” the women was hysterical as she ran in, but ignored me. She immediately called the police and an ambulance. At that point I realized what a scumbag I had become, so I went sprinting out the door with no concern for Tom or injured Jimmy.

“Welcome to the inner workings of my mind,” were the last words I ever heard from Tom as I left the house. I often wonder what was going on in my mind during that time, but in the end I don’t care. I guess that shows what type of person I am now. Even after our split, nothing has changed for me. I’m still shooting up every day; in fact it’s probably about seven times a day or every waking moment of the day. There has been no effort to find out what happened to Tom or Jimmy, nor will there be.

Tom pulled the needle out his arm as the tourniquet loosened allowing the heroin to flow freely into his veins. "We’re gonna be rich soon," he said as the high began to hit him.

"No we're not," I replied. Just then a needle enter my vein, but maybe a little too deep as some blood shot up. Even on my ghostly white arm I could not find good veins anymore. I didn’t have the body of someone in their mid-twenties. It didn't matter though as all my worries immediately went away as the high hit me. "You’re right, we're gonna be rich soon."

We discussed money often. All Tom and I wanted to be was filthy rich. We both use to have bright futures when we were studying accounting in college, but then as is often the case life happened. Or drugs happened to be more specific. First it was molly, and it was great. The parties went on all night and we loved everything and everyone while on it. It was during was of those trips that we met someone who began dealing us acid.

Tom's mostly hairless pale white arm was around me again. I decided not to say anything. This always happened when he was on heroin. He loved everything and wanted them to love him back. But that would never happen with me, we were friends and only that. I never asked him if he was a homo, and it was better not to know since I would never be seen with someone of that nature. Tom’s habit of wanting everyone to love him was how his troubles began. And it was what would ultimately lead to me never seeing him again.

"We need to go now. Shit, help me, it's got a hold of me," Tom screamed. This was during his first acid trip. A handful of years had passed since then, but that trip was still vivid in my mind. They usually go one of two ways, you float away into a nice fantasy or you are trussed into a hellish nightmare. I was in fantasy land, but Tom was in the land of demons. Thinking he was being chased by Pennywise the Dancing Clown he jumped out a window to escape, only to end up in the hospital and the police being called.

"Order number 22." Tom went up and grabbed our order from McDonalds. Our high was over, but at least the withdraw symptoms hadn't begun. Coming back into reality was the worst part. All we were thinking about at the moment was when dope would be back in our bloodstream. Maybe we would snort it this time, as all our veins had gone to hell. But we both knew that wouldn’t happen as both of us would go on acting as if we were invincible.

"Something on your mind, you haven't said a word," Tom asked me. I kept the silence going. No need to tell him I was reliving our story in my head. Maybe I should have told him, perhaps things would have changed and that day from hell would have never come. It's easy to look back on things, but at that time there was no way I could have seen the disaster coming on us like a typhoon. A junkie only cares about himself.

Tom and I were kicked out of college after that night on acid. "At least we're not facing criminal charges," he joked. I wasn't joking. I should have told him I never wanted to see him again, and that our friendship was over, but I only said one sentence to him that night.

"Let's try something harder, like heroin."

"Sure," Tom replied. It wasn't hard to find some dope on the streets of Philly.

"Are you two cops?" the dealer asked.

"No."

It was that easy. We went back to that same guy from then on.

We both got construction jobs after being expelled. We worked during the day and shot up most nights. It went on like that for a while until Tom came home with news one day. “I knocked up some chick, I'm gonna be a dad." he told me.

"Ok."

Our conversations were usually short. I didn't even know he was seeing a woman, but there was no point in asking about it. At least I knew he wouldn’t be trying to get it on with me now. The major thing that came out of Tom finding out he would be a dad was him wanting more money. Good I thought more money for heroin. We weren't addicts yet but soon would be. But just like every other junkie we told ourselves we could quit at any-time.

It was while watching TV, when I first heard of Tom getting arrested. He hadn't been to our apartment for a week, but I figured he was with his women. The news said he held up a deli and didn't even get away with any money. "Don't come home anytime soon, more dope for me." I said aloud. By that time I was a full junkie, but didn't care. In fact I hoped never to see Tom again, but he was back a month later after being let off with just community service.

"He's probably making five grand a week selling to people like us." Tom told me one dreary night after a day of community service.

"Five grand." I said in awe.

"Damn right, and we could be doing that."

"We should be doing that."

"Hell yeah." That's how we moved up to become dealers. It went great, for a while.

"Looks at all this dough." I said.

"We’re rich."

"It's too easy, all I do is take the dope over the bridge into Jersey, and---"

"Sell it to the rich white folks." Tom finished it for me.

Tom's son Jimmy was born in the mist of our glory days, but he didn't see it that way. "Damn whore won't even let me see my own boy." Tom complained.

I let him go on venting.

"Took him to live with her rich parents at the Jersey Shore."

I felt no sympathy. He was a junkie and a dealer who was becoming rich, he couldn't have it all.

"What the hell is going on with our money," Tom asked one day. Our funds were a little lower, but no need for panic.

"It’s winter. Our dope comes from up North, it slows down now." I told him.

"We don't have enough for ourselves and to sell anymore.” We tried to ration it, but that didn't work.

We saw the couple leaving the movies from a block away. The plan was simple, but didn't work.

"Shit, the bitch sliced me." I screamed. We got no money from our failed robbery, but I had a stab in my stomach and was bleeding badly.

"Keep pressure on it." I told Tom when we were back home. We know it was a horrible idea, but saw no other choice. I had to get to the hospital. Of course with a stab wound the police would be called, but I wasn't about to die.

"No, no, no, not to me." I screamed.

"Get the chair and tie him up." the nurse ordered.

I went through detox next. During that time I wished I had died.

"Where’d that wound come from, son." a police officer asked.

"Look at all those needle marks, just another junkie." his partner replied.

I never answered any of the questions and was thrown in the county jail on highly questionable charges, but it didn't matter to them. I was just a drag on society. Tom and I were desperate now.

After McDonald’s Tom had a great idea and we went with it. “There’s a new shipment coming in this Friday.” he told me. “We can buy five bricks and then we’ll be set for ourselves and our customers for a long long time.” The only problem was where we would find that money so quick.

“Five bricks, come out man that’s pushing it.” I rebutted to Tom’s plan.

“Do you wanna be rich or not.” he shot back.

And with that reply I agreed to the plan and our collision course was set. We arrived at the Jersey Shore one week later. Jimmy’s mom was at work, and we tied up the grandparents so the house was ours free to raid now.

“Remember our acid guy,” Tom asked. “Well I saw him and got us two pills. Let’s try it again.”

I knew it was a bad idea, but went with it anyway. We got all the jewelry and money from the house for our future purchase. For some reason I suggested to shoot up as well. Two drugs at once was a horrible idea, but Tom was all for it, so we did it. For a brief ten minutes our future looked bright. We would have our bricks and plenty of money. It’s the last happy thought I’ve had since. Tom had another bad trip. Just then little Jimmy wandered in.

“Pennywise,” Tom screamed. He picked up a needle filled with dope and held it high. “Not this time. I’m ready for you.” Jimmy looked confused, wondering who these men were. He didn’t react when Tom went charging at him. The needle went right into Jimmy’s bicep. I didn’t even hear Jimmy’s scream; all I heard was a car pulling into the driveway. Tom didn’t even know what he had done and slumped down on the floor convinced he defeated Pennywise.

“Jimmy!” the women was hysterical as she ran in, but ignored me. She immediately called the police and an ambulance. At that point I realized what a scumbag I had become, so I went sprinting out the door with no concern for Tom or injured Jimmy.

“Welcome to the inner workings of my mind,” were the last words I ever heard from Tom as I left the house. I often wonder what was going on in my mind during that time, but in the end I don’t care. I guess that shows what type of person I am now. Even after our split, nothing has changed for me. I’m still shooting up every day; in fact it’s probably about seven times a day or every waking moment of the day. There has been no effort to find out what happened to Tom or Jimmy, nor will there be.

My name is Joe Pellegrino. I am from New Jersey and go to school at the University of Missouri where I am studying accounting.

 

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