Green Room II
Chapter 11

Monday, 6:12am. I was up all night. I'm on such a high you won't believe it! Hahahaha! Hey, I can see your bushies rising. I'm str8, G. I've not taken anything, so don't stress.

School went well today. There's a lot of catch-up because I accomplished little during the first three days. I spent most of the weekend with Bob, who overdosed me on vitamin B and C. He was like a mother looking after me. My piss is still bright yellow and stinks like hell. So does my crap but maybe we shouldn't go there.

So, Dear Diary, how did the weekend start? Let's see. Another shit day at school Friday because I drifted from one minute to the next like a blind man in the hope that someone would take my arm and lead the way. THANKS BOB!

I was quite upset, wondering what it is that  drifts away from me so very quickly. But there's not a lot I can do about it. The thing is, maybe I want Bob to leave me alone as well if I'm to cope with everything. I'm at a loss at the moment. I'll phone Melanie--maybe go to a movie or something. Okay, okay, not such a great idea. She can be cruel. What is this? Is she on a mission to make my life a misery? Maybe I should phone Bob. Nope, he's playing dealer dealer at a club tonight, but he promised to collect me tomorrow. Okay then, my girlfriend? Piss off, Stuart. Whew! Gets a bit hectic when you lose your looks and have no personality to back it up. Yo mirror! Butt check. Hey, there's plenty of personality there. Quite cute, actually. I know! Brett! I forgot I'm supposed to keep in touch, and he's been worried. Think, think. Okay, so I'm not in Fremantle, and I can't ask Brett for a bonk. Maybe Fingers will catch the midnight flight and... No, bad thoughts, bad thoughts. He's one of the good guys.

I know! I'll go into town, make some bucks, and find a girl. Nope, I'm not in shape. I'll end up puking all over her...or him. Kyle? Nope, Kyle's not around anymore. Anyway, he'd be out with that bitch, Melanie. Sorry, Melanie. You're a great bonk, and I'm sure Kyle thought so too. I never said you're a bitch. Would I lie? Me?

How about a chat with my mom and dad? Nope, they're away. Must've heard of my plan. I know! The household help! Forget it. Thanks Mr. Diary for helping me work through that awful Friday.

Dear Diary, Saturday. Surf? No. Still too  paranoid. I don't want to get all jerky in the swell. Bob? Still sleeping, probably until this afternoon, the lazy fuck. Melanie? No. Graham? Yeah, right. Oh, hello? Thought you'd gone to heaven. Okay, a good wank. No, forget that. I'll save the juice for later with Bob.

Another phone call. "Hey, acid head, you gonna get wasted in the surf today?" I slammed down the phone. I won't get riled today. Swim in the pool. Black Speedos with a narrow waist. Those were Kyle's, so I'll wear them. Now I got it; I need some exercise in the gym room. Cycled for a whole five minutes, then pushed a whole 40kg and felt drained. Hey, Diary, I used to do 80 situps no worries. Help me out here, okay? No. Back to sleep.

Checked mail from G. Replied. Phone rings. Okay, Bob, come fetch me. Ah, what must I wear? Okay, Dear Diary, you should have seen the look on Bob's face when I walked out the door naked. Hahahaha! It was priceless! "Hey, Bob, you said just bring yourself, so here I am." Party pooper. He chased me back inside the house to clothe myself. Made him horny as hell, though. Come on, Diary, you know our driveway can't be seen from the street, so stop bitching.

Bob's house is pretty rad. He also has fucked-up folks who don't give a shit. But what a pad! A whole house-size section to himself. C'mon, dad, can't I have one of those too? Gym section with sauna and a massive pool?

The worst thing that could happen did. I was horny without a toad. "Don't worry about it, Stuart, it happens, bro."

"Not to me. What's going on?"

Bob pulled me toward him and hugged me. "You're body is ratshit, Stuart. We need to do something about it."

He mixed a drink that tasted revolting. "Bleh! What is this stuff, anyway?"

"Pure Bs. Vitamin B concoction. I could give you an injection, which would work faster, but that drink should do the trick. I'll give you more to take home."

Later, we did three circuits of high-intensity cardio and aerobic exercise. I sweat buckets. Each time I wanted to quit, he pushed me further. Our clothes were see-though drenched by the time we finished.

Then it was the sauna for 20 minutes. I was on fire in there. We showered, then laid on his bed where we spoke for a long time. "When I heard you wanted to quit selling, I worried," he said. He knew the syndicate guys would make my life hell. I told Bob about Graham's attitude. Don't worry, Diary, Bob's the only one who knows how I feel about Graham, and he thinks Graham is totally str8. He doesn't know about Kyle and me, though. During the convo with Bob, he said a friend of Graham's was buying, and that Graham should dump his friend ASAP. "I've seen Graham more than once, lying on the sidewalk, puking his guts up."

After arriving home, I showered again. To my horror and despair, my body's steady deterioration had become more obvious. In Fremantle, with all the hard work, I was fit. Not now. I searched the fridge for leftovers then checked email. G again. I told him I didn't care about my image in the story he was writing, and that I was surprised he considered it even worth telling. "Basically, it's the way I am all the time anyway--people are always telling me how fucked up I am."

Bob was pissed off big time when I phoned at 4 that morning. "Do you realize what time it is?"

"I'm shaking. I'm in a bad way."

"I won't supply you, Stuart."

"Why? I can't quit yet. I'm desperate. Maybe it's all that vitamin crap you fed me on the weekend."

"You can't do it, Stuart. Just hang in there."

"If you don't get your ass over here right now I'll phone the dealers. They'll bring as much as I want."

"You know what it will do to you."

"I'm sick, dammit. I need something right now. I'll never speak to you again. Fuck it! Forget it. I'll phone them right now."

"I'm coming over."

I met Bob in the street because I didn't want to wake my folks or the staff. He handed me two envelopes. "You've been crying," I said as I took the packages.

"I marked the one with the vitamin B tabs. The other is crack. No needles."

"Thanks. I'll smoke it."

"The H is causing your problem, Stuart. The crack won't help. Take the B, mate, please! You already know what will happen."

"Get me heroin, then. I'm sick. Look at me! I'm shaking. My stomach is twisted in a million knots. You don't know this pain, Bob. It's unbearable!"

"Just take the B."

I returned to the house as he drove off. For ages, I studied the envelopes. I got sick again, and my stomach cramped so bad, I had to stuff a pillow in my mouth to silence my screams. Screams, G. Screams! You get the message here? Every muscle cramped. My bed was soaked in sweat. I think I actually passed out because of the pain.

I was fine when I woke, but still a bit sick in the stomach. I took the B tabs. But I can't go through another night like this, G. I'm sorry, but if it happens again, I won't handle that kind of pain and nausea. It's not standard hangover I'm talking about. Ever had a leg cramp in your sleep? Like in your calf muscle? Imagine your whole body like that, and your stomach cramped in knots. Then the blinding headaches start.


No, I won't smoke it now. I'm fine for the time being. I might be fine tomorrow. I might be fine the next day. I need the crack here in case the pain returns. I'm sorry if you're disappointed. Join the fucking crowd.

Monday night: At the moment I'm feeling okay. Had a cool weekend with Bob and school was okay. I sweat a lot and still feel nauseous. I hope this whole email makes sense because I wrote it in bits and pieces, and moved stuff around. I'm really tired right now. Gotta sleep, and hopefully sleep right though.

A few days later: So how's it going? Yeah, I'm fine. Still shaking and not sleeping, and still getting sick, but, hey, whatever.

A friend told me who it is that phones me and calls me a coke head. His mates dared him to do it the first time, then he got carried away. The other night he phoned again and went through this whole routine with all his dickhead mates laughing in the background. I thought it was Graham. I phoned him to tell him to stop harassing me, but his mom answered. She said he was with Sean. So I phoned Sean who said Graham refused to speak to me.

"Then give him a message. Tell him to stop his stupid crank calls."

"It's not Graham. It's Joe."

When I arrived home from school the next day, I sensed I was being shadowed. Sure enough, I got another call. CRACK HEAD! HEHEHEHE! I went to the beach and saw Graham and his grommet mates surfing. I'm still not fit enough to surf, so I waited on the sand. When Graham emerged from the water, I asked him which guy was Joe. He ignored me and walked right past like I was Mr. Invisible.

One of the grommets approached me and said he was Joe. "What's the problem," he asked. I backhanded him so hard he bawled right away. My hand stung, but I felt great. The nick on his cheek was open and red.

"Don't fuck with me, grommet, or you'll feel more pain than you can handle."

I scored more bad points with Graham, though, who swore at me and warned me to watch my back.

That night, Sean phoned to say that Joe's older brother might come looking for me. Whoa! Somebody on my side! "So tell me how this whole thing started," I asked.

"It was Graham who amped all the guys to give you a hard time. But he chickened out when the first call was made."

So, G, there's another hero for you. You know what the worst is? I can't get the grommet out of my head. I want to be his friend...or I need to get over him real fast. Otherwise, I'll go insane. What you wrote me about him thinking I'm a hero is wishful crap.

This morning, I took a run. Can you believe that? It wasn't a marathon, and my legs hurt. It was a slow run but felt good. I also did situps and pushups, and lifted a few weights. I need to build my biceps again--those perfect bicep balls I used to have, like Graham's. I tire quickly, though, because I get virtually no sleep. And I take all this vitamin B, which I get myself at the pharmacy.

My erections are back to normal. Woohoo! That makes me feel better. I also used my dad's account to order boxing gloves and a bag. Bugger him. If he's not happy, he can return the merchandise when he gets home. I figure boxing is good exercise and could be fun. Anyway, considering the shit I manage to get myself into these days, it might be an idea to be fighting fit. Yeah! Bring on Joe's older bro. Come on, come on! Hahahaha! Hey, I didn't even know the little shit had an older bro. If I had, I might have left him alone. You see what a chickenshit I am for a hero? Hell, when I heard that Kyle was on the rampage about Melanie and me, I phoned every mate in my book to back me. All I wanted back then was Kyle to be bashed enough not to come near me. Ended up having to do the job myself, though. Anyway, maybe Joe's older bro is a skinny dude who doesn't wanna mess with G's hero. Hahahaha!