So this other guy at the shelter, he can’t work, just like me, but he gets money by selling some of his pills. I can’t do that, because I hear voices, I’m not ashamed to admit it – I hear things. So they keep my meds in the office, so nobody will steal them, and I go in and then give me the dosages every morning and evening. I don’t have any pain pills, because I used to be an addict, and then don’t trust me with them, which is funny. Well, not funny, but yeah, okay, kind of hilarious. Or maybe you would say ironic. Because this guy with both his legs cut off, he gets 380 Oxycontin a month from his doctor. And I fell off a roof and I have nerve pain and I get exactly zero.
Sometimes when this guy’s in a good mood, he’ll just tell me, hey dude, let’s go out for a nice dinner. My treat. The first time I was like, dude, what are you talking about? Look around, man. We’ re at a frikkin’ – excuse my language – shelter, man. Where you gonna get money when you can’t even get a real good wheel chair and you don’t even have legs? No offense, but you know, I mean, you know you don’t have legs. And I can’t work neither because I hear voices so they don’t necessarily want me around the job site if you know what I mean. Even though I told my boss last time, I said, hey, don’t worry – I mostly hear music, but the boss was like, I can’t have you around, because what if the voice tells you to hit me with a hammer or something?
The boss is the crazy one, in my mind, because why is he worried about getting killed with a hammer? I told him, with all due respect, Mister, those are YOUR voices, not mine! I didn’t even think of that – you did. Don’t put your voices in my head, man, I have my own voices, you know what I mean? Mostly music. Because I used to dance all the time. All the time. My biggest loss with the bad back now, is not dancing. Screw the pain! Oh, sorry. I’m trying to watch my tongue! Bad habits, bad old habits.
Anyway, this guy without legs, the first time he invites me out to eat, he’s like, well, I’m gonna do some business and get me some cash. You’ll see. I’ll be back after a trip around the block, man. No pain, no gain. This meal will be as relieving and relaxing as a couple of pills. Wait for me! Don’t eat! And he wheels himself out the door onto the street. Half an hour later, I’m still in the kitchen cleaning up, and he wheels back in with a grin on his face and shows me a couple hundred dollars! Yeah! He did. Seriously.
So that’s when he told me he gets 380 Oxycontin a month, and I really have to say that I don’t know what his doctor is thinking, because that is crazy. Seriously, though. This doctor is giving this guy more than ten pills a day, but there that doctor is, you know, sitting in his office with his licenses and shit – sorry for my language, I’m used to talking to men – handing out addictive pills like candy – but yeah, okay, I’m the crazy one because I hear voices. And mostly, like I say, it’s just music.
So I thought, fine then. Can’t beat ’em, join ’em. I can’t stop the doctor from over-prescribing. I’m not gonna stop the guy with no legs from selling some pills. So why not enjoy a good dinner? We went to the public market and got us view table and ordered some oysters and other good things. They made way for the wheelchair and were really nice to us and little did they know we were eating off of drug money. But who’s to say what business is good business and what business is bad business? There is a saying that money don’t stink and for that dinner, it didn’t stink. It smelled just fine. And it tasted good, too. So who’s to say that it was wrong, in the face of so much else wrong? My friend, you know, he was really happy to do something nice for somebody. He doesn’t get the chance much, you know?