Pondering at Thirteen
George OD’d on cocaine when he was 26.
“How could this have happened?” asked his mother, Sheila, at the hospital. None of the three other people--the doctor, George’s father Leonard, his sister Julie, and a little kid that happened to walk by--answered her, but Julie knew. A few years ago George was sitting, watching TV at Julie’s apartment when suddenly he turned to her and said, “You know, I think I’m going to start doing cocaine.” Julie laughed and George laughed too, but later that evening, George asked his friend Terry if he knew of anyone he could get cocaine from. Terry said he didn’t, but he thought he knew someone who knew of someone. Three connections later George had an overpriced bag of cocaine to use to his desire.
Later that night George, rather surprised he had gone through with it, thought about flushing the cocaine down the toilet. He even went so far as go into the bathroom with the bag and pour a little into the toilet. Before he could pour the whole thing in, though, he thought the better about wasting all that money and promptly returned to his dining room and snorted three lines.
When he told Julie of what he did the next day, she was incredibly angry with George and made him flush the rest of the cocaine away. Later that day however, George met back up with his acquaintance of an acquaintance and was fully addicted to the drug within two weeks. Two years later, life thoroughly down the tubes, he OD’d and landed in the hospital.
George died later that night.
George’s sister, Julie, was so torn by guilt of not intervening that she went on a drinking binge and drove her car into a lake. George’s mother, Sheila was so grief stricken that she swallowed a bottle of aspirin. George’s father, Leonard, became a sad depressed man who never answered the phone and rarely left the house. The doctor, who had worked valiantly through the night trying to save George’s life, quit medicine to find his soul in the Australian Outback, where he was eaten by a crazed wallaby. The kid who had just stumbled in--his name was Gregory--was so traumatized in seeing the life drain from George’s body that he too grew up to be a cocaine addict. Gregory OD’d and ended up in that very same room of that very same hospital twenty-three years later. As he was slowly fading away, another kid wandered in and witnessed his passing. That kid, whose name was Paula, suffered a similar fate. And so on and so on and so on.
The moral of the story is: don’t OD on cocaine.
“How could this have happened?” asked his mother, Sheila, at the hospital. None of the three other people--the doctor, George’s father Leonard, his sister Julie, and a little kid that happened to walk by--answered her, but Julie knew. A few years ago George was sitting, watching TV at Julie’s apartment when suddenly he turned to her and said, “You know, I think I’m going to start doing cocaine.” Julie laughed and George laughed too, but later that evening, George asked his friend Terry if he knew of anyone he could get cocaine from. Terry said he didn’t, but he thought he knew someone who knew of someone. Three connections later George had an overpriced bag of cocaine to use to his desire.
Later that night George, rather surprised he had gone through with it, thought about flushing the cocaine down the toilet. He even went so far as go into the bathroom with the bag and pour a little into the toilet. Before he could pour the whole thing in, though, he thought the better about wasting all that money and promptly returned to his dining room and snorted three lines.
When he told Julie of what he did the next day, she was incredibly angry with George and made him flush the rest of the cocaine away. Later that day however, George met back up with his acquaintance of an acquaintance and was fully addicted to the drug within two weeks. Two years later, life thoroughly down the tubes, he OD’d and landed in the hospital.
George died later that night.
George’s sister, Julie, was so torn by guilt of not intervening that she went on a drinking binge and drove her car into a lake. George’s mother, Sheila was so grief stricken that she swallowed a bottle of aspirin. George’s father, Leonard, became a sad depressed man who never answered the phone and rarely left the house. The doctor, who had worked valiantly through the night trying to save George’s life, quit medicine to find his soul in the Australian Outback, where he was eaten by a crazed wallaby. The kid who had just stumbled in--his name was Gregory--was so traumatized in seeing the life drain from George’s body that he too grew up to be a cocaine addict. Gregory OD’d and ended up in that very same room of that very same hospital twenty-three years later. As he was slowly fading away, another kid wandered in and witnessed his passing. That kid, whose name was Paula, suffered a similar fate. And so on and so on and so on.
The moral of the story is: don’t OD on cocaine.
posted by Jesse @ 12:05 AM
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