The Weather at The Bottom: Part 2

Posted: April 23, 2015 in Uncategorized

So I was going to do a lot of cocaine because I was trying to pass a drug screen. Weed stays in your body forever, and cocaine only sticks around for a minute. It’s got other places to be, places with cocaine. Pot moves into your fat cells and starts playing Xbox, next thing you know, it’s been six weeks and you’re failing a piss test. I bought an 8-ball and however much we did that night. So I bought two 8-balls. It’s a lot of cocaine, People ask me how I find drugs and I’ve never understood the question. You just go somewhere in public and look like you’re looking for drugs. Ask yourself honestly, “where can I find drugs,” and a guy will show up with some like a magic insurance agent,

I had done cocaine a few times, and I think I’m really good at it. I got to sleep that day, a little bit. I jerked my dick until it looked like a red baby hamster, and I smoked cigarettes with the reverence of a man tied blindfolded in front of a firing squad.

The concert was a week away, and, for the most part, I stayed away from the blow. It lurked in my closet like a handgun or a teenager’s pornography; ominous, exciting, and the center of the world. I worked and hated and sneaked towards the weekend. I went to probation classes and gave out saccharine sweet smiles that I’m certain cause cancer in lab idiots. I saved money, arranged rides and planned my takeover of an old life. I was going to raid in under the gloom that pervaded my life and start fires that would burn away the clouds and cast long shadows of me I could remember.

I got really high and watched a band play. I got jacked up before hand, a couple of times during in the bathroom, and once, poorly, in the parking lot. I didn’t share with anybody. I didn’t get laid, I didn’t make any friends. I looked like a sweaty fat guy on cocaine in a bar in Northern Kentucky and I smoked all the cigarettes in the world.

I didn’t use it all up. I kept a little. I had plans.

A few days later was Christmas. I had a drug screen right before hand (Aced it, suckers) and the calendar fell in a fashion that gave me 5 full weeks before my next drug screen. No employee, state, federal, or private, adjusts schedules on the Holidays, this was clear.

In my life I’ve loved almost all of my family, a handful of pets, a half dozen friends, and 2 or 3 fantastic women. I’ve also loved about 4 video games more than any one of them. Warcraft III stole my life for years, and had I ever put as much effort into a relationship as I did the dealings of Azeroth I’d probably be married, to a couple of women, and I’d have at least one really impressive sword. It wasn’t enough to play Warcraft, I made up maps. I designed stories, and put characters together that didn’t appear together. I teamed up a Mountain King, a dwarf brawler who, if you scaled him up a little, looked a bit like a 6’4″ blond guy doing drugs in his parents’ upstairs, a Pandaren, a big drunk panda bear who fought with a stick, a Tauren Chieftain, a giant Minotaur who talked about weed, and a Goblin Alchemist, a tiny monster riding a bigger monster he kept placated with drugs and magic. A happy accident in the game let me partner all 4, even though you were only allowed 3. They were my posse. My only friends at the bottom of the world. I cracked a bottle of wine for the me guy, and finished it up when the Panda joined. When the Tauren entered the battle I smoked a little weed I’d bummed from my coke guy (a little weed is a common courtesy among guys with professions followed by “guy.”) When I went to the Tavern and hired my Alchemist I’d chop up a line of blow. I raided cities and killed all the dragons I’d littered across the map. I made the world hard and frantic a chock full of monsters. I wired the houses I built to kick out Female Villagers and Lady High Elves that didn’t have many hit points, and couldn’t learn skills, but could walk around town and tell my heroes how handsome they looked. I played it 3 days in a row, all night until morning. I smoked up my cigarettes and was nice to my family. I slept most days like an angel. I don’t remember coming down, or feeling bad, but I’m certain did. I know I bought coke a couple times more, eventually somebody took my money and didn’t give me cocaine, that’s how stories usually go.

Cocaine’s awful, and you probably shouldn’t do it, but it sure saved my life that winter. I was the angriest, saddest man I’ve ever been, with nothing going on in my life, and no idea how to fix it, I had been to The Bottom before, but that was my first time paying rent or getting mail there. I was empty to the point of being broken, and even my friends, unless they were magic, felt like chores. I know it was the worst time of my life. The little energy I spend on anything is spent keeping me away from there, but sometimes, when I’m sad, I think about that clump of days before Christmas when I ran away from home, when I ran away from me, when I ran through a portal into Outworld chasing a line of hard drugs. I’m not sure I would have found it, had it not been raining all the time, but it’s always raining at The Bottom.


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