11 August 06

Two Tonys On Drugs

“I’m thinking about asking the shrink for advice about staying away from drugs when I get out,” I told Two Tonys.
“Whaddya wanna know about drugs?” Two Tonys said, “I’ve done 'em, sold 'em, and killed for 'em – in a roundabout way, drug debts and shit like that.”
“I’m going to ask for some general advice. Dr. O seems really intelligent.”
“How the fuck's he gonna tell ya to stay the fuck away from drugs? What does he know? Has he ever been hooked on drugs? Ask him that next time you see him. Does he know the thrill of drivin’ down the highway after you’ve just blown a motherfucker's jaw off, high on speed, your mind's trippin’ 45 million milligatts per minute and you’re listenin’ to Pink Floyd’s 'Another Brick In The Wall' thinkin’ you just made the most intelligent decision in yer life 'cause you’re so fuckin’ smart on drugs. You’re fuckin high. You’re fuckin’ John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Arnie and Sylvester Stallone all rolled into one.”
“I see what you’re saying: the shrink’s an academic. But he seems to know his stuff.”
“All he can tell ya is there’s nerve-endin’s in yer head like a little clit that twitches when ya do drugs and makes ya think, Man, I’m havin’ a great time. How can I get more of this stuff 'cause I really like this feelin’. I’m so smart. I’m so handsome. I’m so tough. They’re all looking’ at me in this nightclub sayin’, man, who’s that guy?”
“So what advice do you have for me?”
“Don’t fuckin’ do it. Not only don’t do it, don’t hang around with people who are doin’ it or else you’ll end up doin’ it. I don’t care how fine a woman who wants to do drugs with you is, you’ve gotta understand that all your values and the decision-makin’ processes you’ve acquired along the road of life that parents, aunts, uncles, schoolteachers have taught you – right from wrong, good from bad, smart from stuu-pid – you’re gonna throw out the fuckin’ window on drugs.”
“Doing drugs was fun for me but look where I ended up.”
“Oh man, I remember bein’ in those discothèques back in the day with a bad-ass three-piece Armani suit on, gold chains around my neck, packin’ a five-shot Smith & Wesson .38, my Rolex, my pinkie rings, as high as Ike Turner on coke, and that’s a motherfucker who grew a moustache just so he could catch the coke rocks fallin’ outta his fuckin’ nose. I knew everybody in the place was lookin’ at me thinkin’, Man oh man, boy is he cool. And the reason I knew that is 'cause the drugs told me so.
It started out recreationally for me. It turned into a dependency. Lemmetellyasomethin’ - 'cause you’re gettin’ out soon - I guarantee you that you’ll be right back in here if you go poppin’ that Ecstasy or tootin’ that Special K or sippin’ that GHB. That is if you live long enough, if someone doesn’t kill you, if you don’t OD. Like I’ve told ya before there’s a BD, a DD, and an AD. Before drugs, during drugs, and after drugs. The most horrendous and costly decisions I ever made in my life happened during drugs. People lost their lives. I lost my decision-makin’ processes. How the fuck can a guy like me go from livin’ in a five-level house in a beautiful subdivision in Anchorage, Alaska, drivin’ a gold Cadillac Eldorado and a silver Jaguar, with people around me who cared about me, end up on the back of a Greyhound bus at a food stop watchin’ people eat their fuckin’ hamburgers 'cause I haven’t got any money in my pocket?”
“So you don’t think some people do a little bit of drugs and function fine?”
“Not if you’re weak. It could be alcohol. It could be marijuana. One leads to others. Supposedly Cary Grant took plenty of acid after he was 60. That’s OK if you’re Cary Grant, and you’ve gotta manager and motherfuckers who can protect you from your fucked-up decision-makin' processes. But if you’re just out there climbin' the ladder, don’t do it.”
“What about drug-addicted celebrities?”
“They’re a bunch of fuck-ups too. Look at Whitney Houston or Kurt Cobain. What possessed him to climb up to his loft and blow his brains out when he had the number one band in the world?”
“Smack.”
“And Robert Downey Junior. He crashed and burned. He ran into a cliff. And then there’s motherfuckers who turn into monsters. Look at Charlie Manson with the broads on LSD, drivin’ around L.A. puttin’ turkey forks in peoples bellies, cuttin’ pregnant women open to look at their foetuses and then gigglin’ while they did it. They weren’t insane. Those chicks were from Iowa and Nebraska. Their daddies were grocery-store managers and shit like that. How did Charles Manson control them? With drugs. They’re bad man. Back in the '70s – when coke was chic – they lied to us. They told us we couldn’t get addicted. Cocaine wasn’t like that scumbag heroin that made you wanna lie around all day, pukin’, and scratchin’ your ass and balls. They were wrong.”
“So what’s your advice for me when I get out?”
“Listen, Jon. I like you. You’re a nice guy. The cards turned on you and you wound up in this motherfucker. Not because you’re bad or evil but because you made bad decisions due to takin’ drugs. Get outta here and just don’t take 'em anymore. Stay the fuck away from 'em. It’s that fuckin’ simple. You can spend all the money in the world on shrinks, drug counsellors, and thirty-grand-a-month rehab centres, but, the bottom line is just like Nancy Reagan said, you’ve just gotta fuckin’ say no!”

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Copyright © 2005-2006 Shaun P. Attwood