Fresh (691 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.88 on 20 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Draqus (View user info) at 2006-02-01 16:35:31 EST
I hit the hotel at 8:00pm and inhale a quart canister before the manager comes knocking. The shrill buzz of inefficient police cars lights up the mag-way at the back of the hotel, doubtless chasing another addict.
I hide the canisters I've brought and open the door. He asks me about rent, and I say, yeah, yeah, no, tomorrow, after I draw the money- like I have any money left- from my account, but the elephant riding past on the bicycle behind you is way more interesting.
He is about to leave when one of the inexpertly stashed canisters succumbs to the bizarre perpendicular gravity that affects all hidden cylindrical objects and makes an appearance.
"It's not what it looks like."
But that cuts as much ice as a soap hacksaw, so the cries of "druggie" follow me out the door and into the gutter. I left my remaining canisters- which cost a pretty, and very necessary, penny- in the room; I don't have much of an option for returning.
It's called Fresh; it's been the craze now for about five years, ever since they legalised over-the-counter opiates for medicinal purposes. It's a heady blend of pretty much every narcotic and stimulant that the pharmaceutical company Bastard Corp. could squeeze through a duck's-arse legal loophole. There's caffeine in there, for the twitches, dope for the mellow "healing" properties, morphine for the same, steroids for the buzz, and more that they won't admit to.
I crawl out of the gutter and hit the streets, instead. Gangs roam past me, looking to steal canisters, but I keep my head down and walk past quickly. I scan for an easy shop to hit for cash, but they are either securely locked up or ransacked already.
I find a canister lying wedged in a sewer grate and grab it to suck the dregs. Bastard Corp. has the addicts in a tight grip; it markets Fresh as an all-purpose medical aid, and runs drop-in centres for rehab work, but I've been in them before and all they do is shoot you up with more and send you on your way.
The money made is not insignificant. The government, what's left of it, can't control it because it's entirely legal, and the corporation pulls their strings with donations; never to be called bribes: that's just harsh. The police can't control it because half of them are shot up as well, and it's impossible to subdue a populace of which the majority has degenerated into a drug-fuelled soup.
The result is fat-cat profits for the corporation heads at the top of the food chain, and anarchy in the streets.
The canister has nothing left, so I roam on. A group of United Christians mobs me, their death-and-doom placards waving in the light from rubbish fires, but I run. I tell myself I'm not an addict. A police quad rolls past, and stops at my suspicious form.
"You hitting any drugs, son?"
I shake my head, digging it into my shoulders and raising the lapels of my dusty coat as much as possible.
"You want to?"
He holds out a canister to me, and I take it gratefully. His hand comes out, and makes pay-up gestures.
"I have nothing on me, at the moment, officer."
It's true; if it wasn't I would gladly give all I had, because I know what's coming. I was hoping he was the generous type, but I've met his sort before. He gets out of his quad and locks it.
"Come with me."
He takes me down an alleyway, and leaves me thirty minutes later. I pull up my trousers and curl into a ball. No matter how many times it happens, I can't shake the queasy feeling I get. It's worth it for the canister, or so I tell myself: a litre size, not insignificant. I inhale it and my head clears.
There aren't many left now, without an addiction. Most of the developed world has been hit; Africa went under with ease; Asia sank quickly, too, except for China and India, which proved remarkably resilient. They run the legal battles against the corporation now, when they can find a sober judge.
I finish the canister in fifteen minutes, a new record, and lie back in the filth. The twitches don't start, and I worry briefly, before my high persuades me not to be bothered. The steroids and caffeine should be kicking in; they're not. I lie, and look up at the stars.
Even the sky isn't pure, anymore. I used to enjoy watching the stars, but the smog stopped that, years ago. I try to get up, but my body tells me it doesn't feel like it, so I content myself with making out shapes in the haze-cloud: three-head-dog, no-leg-cat, wheeled-fish; all the regulars are there.
My eyes black out eventually. I stopped feeling my legs when the dinosaurs flew past in fighter jets. I tell myself I should care, but the dope steps in again and tells me to be cool.
The veterans say the last one leaves you trapped for hours, in a coffin body. I'm beginning to believe them.
It takes a while, but eventually the angels pass me by.
User Reviews
Submitted by dove666 (user info) at 2006-02-02 10:12:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
nicely done
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-02-02 09:49:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
SUUUURRRRRRGGGGE!
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-02-02 09:45:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was super. If I didn't know any better I'd have to say that elephants on bicycles is a Dali reference but since the other was a comic I will say it is a Far Side reference.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2006-02-02 08:34:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2006-02-02 05:59:05 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was awesome.
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2006-02-02 05:35:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Another heart-warming buttsecks-for-drugs tale...
Submitted by pragmatic (user info) at 2006-02-01 22:31:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent
Submitted by GuinnessSince1759 (user info) at 2006-02-01 21:26:01 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Man...when I got to the picture it was sooo worth reading this....good job.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-02-01 20:46:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
pretty fucking good.
i could live inside your head.
i'd bring food though, cause i doubt there's much of that there.
Submitted by inion_de_trua (user info) at 2006-02-01 20:11:18 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
wonderful. i still think everything should be legalized and controlled though. funny this hasn't really happened to amsterdam yet.
Submitted by Draqus (user info) at 2006-02-01 17:39:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:52:24 (#)
Ranking: 2
Dinosaurs in fighter jets. A Calvin and Hobbes reference.
This was excellent.
---------------
Hats off to HigVoltage for noticing the reference. The "elephants on bicycles" one comes from somewhere too. Prizes to who spots that as well.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2006-02-01 17:00:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
clever
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:57:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was great. While reading it, I was reminded of the 'Slurm' episode of Futurama. When I got to the picture, I realized why.
Submitted by HighVoltage900 (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:52:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Dinosaurs in fighter jets. A Calvin and Hobbes reference.
This was excellent.
Submitted by digdug (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:51:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
forgot a +2.
Submitted by digdug (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:50:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
So you got ass-raped by a pig for a Coca-Cola?
I'll give you a Diet Pepsi for a BJ.
Submitted by simple_catalyst (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:45:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
you're kinda stuck where you are,
but in your dreams...
Submitted by leilani (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:43:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
kick ass.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:41:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I only take Nuke.
Submitted by Jeanneee (user info) at 2006-02-01 16:38:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
interesting