/A/N/ My disclaimer is in my bio, and this takes place in Denton, NY, even
though that may not be the Denton in the movie. It works better that way.
If you want to know why I know so much about drugs, I read Kurt Cobain's
biography. /
Brad kept his eyes on the ground, he couldn't bear to risk glancing at the door, the portal of all things bad in his life. It had brought him into Frank's life, and took Janet out of his. That slut, he thought bitterly, his lips pursed, his eyes threatening to pull up to the door. Grasping his forehead, he massaged his temples. He had to get away from that damned door.. but any minute Janet could come back, even though he didn't want her all that much. It wasn't he didn't love her, he just didn't love what she had become. A malious shell of a woman, sleeping with anyone but Brad. He sighed, thinking of the sad truth, although he knew he was little better than her. His chassis, which had began to deteriorate with his worrying, shook with the sobs he wished he could stifle. He could only imagine how ridiculous he looked as he fell to the ground, heaving with his painful sobs.
Brad thought of that day in late November, only slightly less than a year ago. Riff Raff.. Magenta.. Columbia.. Eddie.. Rocky.. Columbia.. and Dr. Frank N. Furter the sweet transvestite. He only wished he could have that much passion.. may be then Janet wouldn't have turned to so many other lovers before she left him.. maybe then I would have his fairy tail ending. Life wasn't fair.. he had learned that at a young age, but he assumed at least we would all turn out happy in the end, even if not very. His skin was pulled over frail bones, and he wondered, how could he still have blood pumping under his thin skin.. he wished he could have tangible proof.. but using razors... too messy, and he pitied the one who would find his body, months later. He wanted proof that wouldn't kill him.
!---------------!
The streets of Denton were not exactly the best place to find junkies, dealing their junk to others. The system that will ultimately caused a spiral of demise. Brad knew this, so he set out for another destination, New York, New York. Although it was late, I would be back before the sun rose, it was only a two hour drive. He hardly paid attention to the highways, or speed limits, his mind dabbling on other thing. Much to his luck, but more to the luck of other drivers, the road was nearly deserted. His mousey brown hair hung over his eyes, and made him more attractive. He didn't wear his thick rimmed glasses, but still saw the road clearly enough to make his way along. His hands gasped the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were like ivory mountains. Wide eyed he cruised along, hardly glancing at the road signs as he passed.
New York's bright lights dazzled Brad, his eyes sore from the mind numbing neon colour. Clubs, bars, shops, hotels, it was a lot for this small town boy from Denton. He parked his car in a parking lot not far from the glitz and glamour of the down town streets. Then he spotted a dealer.
Shootin' up junk, he was a low down cheap little punk, taking everyone for a ride. The words of one of the many songs, from last November spun around in his head, filling him with guilt as he paraded down the streets of the Big Apple. He was high, and now traveling with a small group of junkies, looking for fun. Even without looking at his watch, he knew he wouldn't be home before sunrise. Not if he could help it. Laughing, as one of the woman he was conversing with flashed a car, making them honk their horns. This is what Brad had been missing all his life.. a night life. Already he had had more fun than he had any other time in his life. He was almost able to forget Janet, but she was a dark storm cloud, hanging above his conscious, showering thoughts on him every time he thought the storm was over.
!----------------!
When Brad awoke the next morning, he wasn't sure who's apartment he was in, but his partners in come the former night, were already awake, shooting up once more. He yawned, stretching, despite the ache in his arm, were a bruise had formed. So there was blood in him after all, at least it would come in handy once it was pumped with his new found best friend. Heroine. Her walked over to the pot, were they were cooking the black tar drugs, and pouring it into syringes. He smiled at the others, although he didn't even know their names.
"Here man." one of them offered him a syringe of heroine, although it wasn't very full, "it's on the house."
"Thanks..." Brad accepted it, finding a vein in his arm, under all the parchment skin, and injected the vile liquid into his system, "I need to get back to my car.. and go home." He told the truth, it was already 11 am, much later than he had planed on staying. He payed the dealer, picking up what he needed to carry him throw the week, although it wasn't as though he was addicted, yet, he just wanted the high, it was all he had at the time.
Brad began the two hour drive back to Denton, although he was intoxicated, he still drove with care.
I'm a wild and a untamed thing,
I'm a bee with a deadly sting,
These two lines played over in Brad's head, but he didn't know how deadly a sting could be, not that of a bee, but of the transparent syringe that held what he would soon come to depend on.
Brad kept his eyes on the ground, he couldn't bear to risk glancing at the door, the portal of all things bad in his life. It had brought him into Frank's life, and took Janet out of his. That slut, he thought bitterly, his lips pursed, his eyes threatening to pull up to the door. Grasping his forehead, he massaged his temples. He had to get away from that damned door.. but any minute Janet could come back, even though he didn't want her all that much. It wasn't he didn't love her, he just didn't love what she had become. A malious shell of a woman, sleeping with anyone but Brad. He sighed, thinking of the sad truth, although he knew he was little better than her. His chassis, which had began to deteriorate with his worrying, shook with the sobs he wished he could stifle. He could only imagine how ridiculous he looked as he fell to the ground, heaving with his painful sobs.
Brad thought of that day in late November, only slightly less than a year ago. Riff Raff.. Magenta.. Columbia.. Eddie.. Rocky.. Columbia.. and Dr. Frank N. Furter the sweet transvestite. He only wished he could have that much passion.. may be then Janet wouldn't have turned to so many other lovers before she left him.. maybe then I would have his fairy tail ending. Life wasn't fair.. he had learned that at a young age, but he assumed at least we would all turn out happy in the end, even if not very. His skin was pulled over frail bones, and he wondered, how could he still have blood pumping under his thin skin.. he wished he could have tangible proof.. but using razors... too messy, and he pitied the one who would find his body, months later. He wanted proof that wouldn't kill him.
!---------------!
The streets of Denton were not exactly the best place to find junkies, dealing their junk to others. The system that will ultimately caused a spiral of demise. Brad knew this, so he set out for another destination, New York, New York. Although it was late, I would be back before the sun rose, it was only a two hour drive. He hardly paid attention to the highways, or speed limits, his mind dabbling on other thing. Much to his luck, but more to the luck of other drivers, the road was nearly deserted. His mousey brown hair hung over his eyes, and made him more attractive. He didn't wear his thick rimmed glasses, but still saw the road clearly enough to make his way along. His hands gasped the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were like ivory mountains. Wide eyed he cruised along, hardly glancing at the road signs as he passed.
New York's bright lights dazzled Brad, his eyes sore from the mind numbing neon colour. Clubs, bars, shops, hotels, it was a lot for this small town boy from Denton. He parked his car in a parking lot not far from the glitz and glamour of the down town streets. Then he spotted a dealer.
Shootin' up junk, he was a low down cheap little punk, taking everyone for a ride. The words of one of the many songs, from last November spun around in his head, filling him with guilt as he paraded down the streets of the Big Apple. He was high, and now traveling with a small group of junkies, looking for fun. Even without looking at his watch, he knew he wouldn't be home before sunrise. Not if he could help it. Laughing, as one of the woman he was conversing with flashed a car, making them honk their horns. This is what Brad had been missing all his life.. a night life. Already he had had more fun than he had any other time in his life. He was almost able to forget Janet, but she was a dark storm cloud, hanging above his conscious, showering thoughts on him every time he thought the storm was over.
!----------------!
When Brad awoke the next morning, he wasn't sure who's apartment he was in, but his partners in come the former night, were already awake, shooting up once more. He yawned, stretching, despite the ache in his arm, were a bruise had formed. So there was blood in him after all, at least it would come in handy once it was pumped with his new found best friend. Heroine. Her walked over to the pot, were they were cooking the black tar drugs, and pouring it into syringes. He smiled at the others, although he didn't even know their names.
"Here man." one of them offered him a syringe of heroine, although it wasn't very full, "it's on the house."
"Thanks..." Brad accepted it, finding a vein in his arm, under all the parchment skin, and injected the vile liquid into his system, "I need to get back to my car.. and go home." He told the truth, it was already 11 am, much later than he had planed on staying. He payed the dealer, picking up what he needed to carry him throw the week, although it wasn't as though he was addicted, yet, he just wanted the high, it was all he had at the time.
Brad began the two hour drive back to Denton, although he was intoxicated, he still drove with care.
I'm a wild and a untamed thing,
I'm a bee with a deadly sting,
These two lines played over in Brad's head, but he didn't know how deadly a sting could be, not that of a bee, but of the transparent syringe that held what he would soon come to depend on.