Boys Don't Cry ✵ MCR

Burned Out Ray Of Sunshine

"Gerard, he's back! Ray is back! Get yourselves out of that house and stock up. Now." She sounds pissed off, the ending of her sentences are a half note higher than the rest of her words, I should probably limit my dialogue.

"Lindsey, how do you know?"

"He called me you idiot."

"Really?"

"I'm not going to lie to you about this, I need it just as much as you! Now, I've left some extra money beside the pile of records."

"Left or right side?"

"Left!" I can hear her rolling her eyes through the phone and I know not to ask stupid questions. Lindsey is the kind of person who is willing to fight and will always win.

"Ok, I've got it."

"Good, drag everyone along with you."

"Why?"

"I don't trust you not to scam us."

"I wouldn't do that, you'd beat the life out of me."

"Yes, and that might happen anyways if you don't take everyone with you. Wake them up if they aren't already."

I did as she asked, they're all in pain, but moving is necessary and they know that. And thus a band of corpse-like skag addicts in desperate need for a hit locked each door, each window, stepped out onto the decrepit road and took a left onto Hastings street. East Van is grim. It's dirty and dark, smells like urine and weed. You pass the occasional crack addict and people shooting up in alleyways. Walking alone is never an option.

Once we get to Ray's Place knock on the door six times. The door opens to reveal a tall man with tan skin and a mess of curly brown hair.

"Hello boys! Frank, more tattoos I see! Where's Lindsey?"

"Lindsey's at work" Mikey says with a tone more dead than the vein on my left arm.

"Right. I have some stuff for you guys."

Ray, has a soft voice, simultaneously it's thin, and it sounds like someone was choking him while he speaks. But somehow it isn't too unpleasant to listen to. The three of us exchange glances while Ray leads the way into a messy Den with a singular hanging light. The smell of both burning Skag and mildew floods our nostrils, nothing new. Mikey in particular is annoyed, nobody is up for Ray's pleasant attitude, we just want to buy and leave.

"Where have you been, Ray?"

"That's none of your business, Mikey."

His tone falls and rises again.

"Anyways, I have about a week's worth of supply for you."

We are all getting pretty impatient. I sit down on a plush grey couch with stains of god knows what on it. Ray walks over to a desk and begins spooning white powder into little plastic bags, weighing them and either adding or removing powder accordingly. Mikey is sulking in the corner, observing our dealers every ove. Frank joins me on the couch.

"How are you doing, Gee?" There are tears in my eyes, I am in so much pain.

"I don't know Frank, probably as badly as you."

He looks at the floor and pushes aside some jet black hair. His eyes are so bloodshot. The two of us sit in silence listening to the creaks of the house and Ray's humming. The dealer speaks up with such a bright tone that his name fits the scene, a ray of sunshine. A burned out ray that is, look where we are.

"You know what's interesting?"

Rays got his smile so wide and his tone so happy, one might forget we're buying black market heroin from a guy we were once friends with and now he feeds your addiction for money. "The fact that opioids, heroin, and fentanyl are all cousins." Mikey breaks his silence with a death stare and a sneer,

"How the hell is that interesting?"

"What's interesting is that fentanyl is forty times stronger than heroin, so much cheaper for a dealer. Heroine is the most bought illicitly but opioids are the easiest to get a hold of, and cheapest from the buyers perspective. The pharmaceutical industry makes millions off of opioids, doctor's hand it out like candy. The government pays for all of it, then the government has to pay for policing to keep it off the streets, then paying public heath to deal with your overdoses. Honestly, the government's got a bad gig. At least in Canada, in the states, people pay for their pharmaceutical drugs, then they go to heroin because it's cheaper. The government makes millions, until they have to pay for the police. In Canada it's harder to be a dealer because you people pretty much just got to go to the doctors to grab a hit. The Canadian government spends so much money on mess ups like you. Resources are just burned away, literally, in china they burn all the forest they cut down to plant the poppies. Then the people have to pay more taxes! It's just not sustainable on any account, economic, ecological or socially!"

He's laughing throughout his monologue, just appalled and amused, the rest of us look at one another with pleading eyes,

'Please god, when will it end?'

'Will he just shut up?' And yet he continues,

"But hey, the black market is booming and that's never a bad situation for me. The industry is great right now, shipping costs are low but I know a lot of dealers who are cutting with too much fentanyl and manage to kill off their customers."

Each of our empty gazes is broken and we all stare at him with fear in our eyes.

"Don't worry guys, I'm not going to kill you, you're good customers and I like you." Frank and I nod but Mikey doesn't look amused.

"You better not kill us, if you do we'll send Lindsey after you, no one survives that."

I burst out laughing, so does Frank because he is so damn right. Mikey doesn't even crack a smile he only ever let's himself show any emotion when he's at home, he likes his apathetic image.

"Fair enough. Alright boys, here you go."

We exchange the money for the drugs and put them in Frank's tattered backpack. Mikey is waiting by the door while Ray and Frank chat for a little longer. I'm getting annoyed with him.

"Are you ready Frank?"

"Oh I'm there."

"How 'bout you Mikey?"

"Fucking ready."

"Well I think I'm alright. Thank you Ray, we'll be back."

"I know you will be! Bye guys!"