syd
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2005
- Messages
- 273
The first paramedic is a fat piece of shit smearing his mouth with what appears to be a gyro. The yellow puss sauce smearing his entire lower face.
Nother junkie, he says.
You observe this through razor slit eyes lying crammed between your couch and coffee table. Just because you fell out after a shot doesn't mean medical attention. The naive blonde you corseted into accompanying you back to your din of sin is fucking freaked over the needle. She goes nuclear when the shot registered and you fall forward banging your head on the glass coffee table.
Just a nod, you mumble.
But she is already on 911 sobbing about how you’re dying, please send help.
And you are dying. Slowly but it’s happening.
You managed to load another shot, but before you can hit, white coats snatch the rig from your arm. Blood shoots all over your white carpet. You curse and scream, calling their mothers cunts as three men lift your body onto a gurney and ask you foolish questions.
Do you know your name?
What is the date?
How many fingers?
Laying in the hospital your refuse all visitors. You shit the bed and puke everywhere. Finally a doctor comes to see you. You listen as politely as you can. He informs you that you’ll have to stay at least three days. He recommends counseling, rehab and family. He is a concerned and precise nice man. Once he leaves you rip the IV from your arm, put on your clothes and start making calls.
Nother junkie, he says.
You observe this through razor slit eyes lying crammed between your couch and coffee table. Just because you fell out after a shot doesn't mean medical attention. The naive blonde you corseted into accompanying you back to your din of sin is fucking freaked over the needle. She goes nuclear when the shot registered and you fall forward banging your head on the glass coffee table.
Just a nod, you mumble.
But she is already on 911 sobbing about how you’re dying, please send help.
And you are dying. Slowly but it’s happening.
You managed to load another shot, but before you can hit, white coats snatch the rig from your arm. Blood shoots all over your white carpet. You curse and scream, calling their mothers cunts as three men lift your body onto a gurney and ask you foolish questions.
Do you know your name?
What is the date?
How many fingers?
Laying in the hospital your refuse all visitors. You shit the bed and puke everywhere. Finally a doctor comes to see you. You listen as politely as you can. He informs you that you’ll have to stay at least three days. He recommends counseling, rehab and family. He is a concerned and precise nice man. Once he leaves you rip the IV from your arm, put on your clothes and start making calls.
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