"This Fucking Guy"
So I used to work with this kid. First time I met him there was an almost nostalgic and not warm...but...not immediate total abhoration, mixed with a an uneasy and unerving feeling. An odd mixture to say the least. Kind of like if you saw a picture of Betty Boop scissoring with Toot Braunstein from Drawn Together. He was kind of like me at his age...well I thought he was 18 maybe 19, and he reminded me of a 15 year old version of me. A crazy blur of psychotic mayhem bouncing off walls and in and out of conversations. Like a real life Sonic the Hedgehog.Just running around just belting out random, disgusting things with no context, always pulled straight from a movie or some kind of pop culture reference.
He just desperately wanted people to like him and think he was funny. So he is me now, just not AS reliant on jokes about sucking dick. and I finally learned how to sit down for more than 34 seconds at a time. I mean look at all of these words!
The shit they talked about this kid hurt MY feeling, if I had one worked ya know?...too be fair he did kind of deserve it based on how god-damn weird and how fucking annoying he was, but also and maybe more importantly, becuase of the story he decided to tell to introduce himself everyone.... I'll get into that in "Tweaker Tales. Chapter 2: Are You Fucking Serious?".... Now this may be hard to believe but I actually am a fairly nice person. Also, I am an obnoxious, loud, prick. Who grinds on peoples nerves like strippers on thighs. So I know what it's like to have everyone think you're weird and obnoxious, not wanna talk to you. It sucks harder and longer than a kid with gay parents seeking dad's' approval. HAHA, see I can do social-commentary even if I don't give a shit about it or even kind of believe what I say. I digress.
I usually extend a hand of friendship, and almost without exception, they not only slapped that hand. Proving to me, something that I already am too nice too admit, that no one liked them not becuase they were different, unique, or interesting people with eccentricities. It's almost without exception, becuase they are in fact fucking weird, walking embodiments of creepy, slightly retarted, and more often than not sociopaths. They would then invariably grab said hand, marinate it in fucking crazy and crushed red pepper. Then start to gnaw it away, like they had been taking bath salts...umm..I'll get to that in another incoherent, angry, and unfunny rant...
Turns out, everyone was right about him, as well as that uneasy feeling... Motherfucker was a meth-head from Iowa, where they fucking invented tweakers, geekers...and men in singlets dry...well it's not very dry...sweat-fucking? Yeah that's it. Anyhoot, he moved down here with his dad, because Middle Tennessee is a great place to get away from meth... Somehow, as far as he said anyway...he quit cold turkey. no meth, nocigarettes, no more fucking sheep for farmers amusement... He lived in Iowa I can only assume how he fed his addiction. Iowa is not like the greater metropolis of Nashville where you can fuck sheep for inbred farmers, retired fight dogs for some penn. hopping ass-hole. OR a 15 year-old, with parental approval of course. It's all about choices and diversity down souf!.... Don't judge me I'm not the sheep fucking tweaker! Still on my side? or even reading this? didn't think so you walking vats of fermented semen!! Got your attention back? Good, this ride is ALMOST over...for now...
Anyway he got this job and started trying to pull his life together. So I had a certain level of begrudging respect for him. To quit all that cold turkey, I couldn't quit saying the word "word" if my life depended on it. So a certain amount of Kudos is in order...ok. stop. He's a tweaker ass-hole. Focus on me. OK. So I started to talk to him, give him cigarettes even though he quit, and I'd smoke some weed with him on breaks, cuz fuck it weed fixes everything from depression to erections. And if there was someone who needs a cheefage of the reefage. It's this fucking kid... Ohh yeah, I don't remember if I have mentioned it, but he is NOT a kid he is almost 25!.... Fastforward to this sentence and it's been a few weeks of talking to him as we passed at work and on breaks. I spent most of that time trying to block out 95% of what he said. It got to the point where I could ALMOST let him smoke my weed, in my car, during my breaks, and I only thought about inventing a machine that would quite literally turn his voice into text. Actual physical text. Made of matter and everything! You can pick the words up, throw them, build a fort, whatever. and when he was done raping my ear with his jack-assery. I could gather up all the words he just tried to violate me with, and jam them back down his gaping face-hole. Make him physically choke on his own moronic words. So I considered us friendly aquaintances, who with the absence of anyone actually intersting. We'd be cool... Then the creepy, weird, tweaker started to peek out...more....
He started constantly come up to me asking my approval to do things... I want to blame myself. I tried to be nice and caring. NEVER a good move. He was talking about relapsing...or maybe reflexes I wasn't listening. I said earlier I talked to him, not LISTENED to the crazy shit falling out of his face. So I took a guess and with all the half-ass, faux sympathy and caring I could muster, not a lot but, fuck I'm almost trying here cut me some slack!
So I tried and told him some recreation of half-hearted words of encouragement like "Come on man." and "Dude...." and the old classic "If you start fucking with hillBilly Crystal again I will smack the shit out of you until you can't hold a glass dick in your lips" See the last one was heartfelt haha. Somehow it went from "I don't want to work with a tweaker, so don't be fuckng dumb". and somehow I became his god-damn life coach. Every 10 minutes, he'd ride up to me, slackjaw dragging against the floor.. "Hey Howdy do you think I'd start smoking meth again if I took some tabs? I want to drink so whiskey, but I'm scared I may start using again. I am a weak individual and I am already going to, or in some cases have done these things, but want you to say it's ok for some reason... Would it be cool to cradle your niblet-sack Howdy?"...OK... First of all...ALWAYS cradle the niblet-sack, no one likes there niblets bouncing and banging against each other while trying to avoid eye contact with a psychotic tweaker from fucking Iowa. I guess where his dad lived here he couldn't teach him these things....but...More to the point. Why the fuck would he ask me?!
He is apparently a grown ass man-child. Make your own descions and mistakes. I told him what I think about drugs. Smoke as much reefer as you can, trip nuts every once in a while, and have a few drinks...Now as you can see, I can barely dress myself or find my own feet most days. I am in the "Top 10 Most Fuckered Up People I Know." Why would he ask me to help with anything? Much less advice on handling addiction, or how to better yourself. I have a suprise! WE HAVE THE SAME SHITTY DEAD END JOB! I had just been there longer...meaning I am even more fucking useless then he is. I may not be a crazy, twitching tweaker like this walking psychotic break. but I know he could see the dead, cynical drug addict hiding behind my eyes? I mean I could see his glinting behind dead eyes grudgefucking Amy Winehouses corpse....
Volume II is already started
