Living in New York City and my time in the military exposed me to a lot of people who struggle with substance abuse. A lot of times it is a disability developed out of circumstance and environment.
I wanted to tell their story in under 1000 words.

The clock in the old Honda Civic read 2:33.  Who knows if that’s even the right time? The exterior was worse.  The old beater had lost all of the features of a car.  It just looked like hastily gathered slabs of rusted metals welded together.  In the case of an accident, the piece of shit would kill you with Tetanus before any impact could. 

“Yo, is that time right?” Burt asks as he adjusts the direction of the heater to his exposed neck. The cold air in and around his throat woke him up from his power nap, if you can call it that. It was more of a crash.

“I don’t fuckin’ know. Why? You got somewhere to be?” Johnny snaps back. He cups his hands together to blow into them and immediately covers his ears like one of those ‘hear no evil toy monkeys.’

“Well, if that time is right, then this fuckin’ asshole should have been here over 45 minutes ago and he ain’t. That’s why,” Burt replies while trying to hold his laughter over the resemblance. “And yeah, I want to get this shit and get high already.”

Johnny sighs and un-cups his ears. He struggles to push his jacket and sweater sleeves up his left wrist. He then exposes a small gold watch, probably fake, definitely stolen. He rolls his eyes down, trying not to move too much so as not to blow away whatever body heat is protecting him, “1 hour and 45 minutes ago.”

“I fuckin’ knew it!” Burt yells, his face drained of any indication that he was in a slightly better mood at the expense of Johnny. “I fuckin’ knew it’s been almost two hours! Where is this guy? When did you talk to him last?”

“You were with me at my house when I talked to him.”  Johnny blows a little harder into his hands, “He said to meet us here at 1:45.”  This time he rubs his hands violently together before he places them on his ears.

Burt glares at Johnny in disgust and confusion. “Wait. So you last spoke with him at ten? That was the last time and he said to meet him here at 1:45? Why so specific?” Burt asks as his paranoia gears up.

“I don’t know! What the fuck! He’s a busy guy, ya’ know?” Johnny barks back annoyed. “You wouldn’t know nothin’ about it! Alright?”  He gathers his composure, “Relax. He’ll be here.  Plus, this is supposed to be the guy who has that primo shit.  You know, that’s why he’s so busy. All good things come to those who are patient, my friend.”

“Fuck you and your patience,” Burt mutters.  He directs the heat away from him. The heat is suffocating as he hyperventilates a little bit.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep? I’m actually missing the sound of your snoring now.” Johnny reclines his seat back and closes his eyes as he tries to relieve some of his back pain.

Burt places a cigarette in his mouth with his left hand and immediately flips Johnny off as he frisks himself with his free hand for a lighter.  He already knows the car lighter is either broken or using it will shut the engine off. It wasn’t worth the risk in this cold, even though the sight of Johnny fuming with rage over his car breaking down will make Burt feel a little better. He pulls out a white lighter and shakes it vigorously and click.

Johnny opens his eyes and rolls them over towards Burt, again with minimal movement, “Whoa, what are you doing, stupid?” he asks condescendingly.

“Building a fire for us,” Burt replies sarcastically, “what do you think?”

“You tryin’ to get us pinched or something? You light that up, it’s going to draw attention to us, with the cherry glowing and the smoke,” Johnny chortles.

Burt responds through his pursed lips and lit-up cigarette, “I think being inconspicuous went out the door when we drove in this piece of shit.”

“Oh, there he is!” Johnny exclaims.  He sees someone coming towards the Civic through his sideview mirror. At this point, he is more excited about not hearing Burt complain anymore than about getting high.

“Yeah?” Burt asks, excited and nervous, “How do you know?”

“Well, it’s a shot in the dark, but he’s the only idiot out here at this time so I want to roll with my guts on this one, pal.”

“Screw you,” Burt fires back as he turns the handle to crack the window to flick his cigarette out.

Without hesitation, “After this, sweetheart,” Johnny promises as the man outside has approached Johnny’s window and taps on his window.

“You Johnny?” the burly man asks in his equally masculine voice.

“Yeah, man. Thanks for showing up,” Burt leans over and replies impatiently.

“No problem, buddy,” the dealer counters back. “Wanna unlock your door so we can do this?” 

Johnny extends his left arm behind him to unlock the driver’s side rear door as he winces in pain from his back.  The dealer hops in and with a sigh asks, “So you guys still want what you guys ordered over the phone?”

“Yeah, man,” Johnny replies as he reclines his seat back up.

“So, the Oxy…the weed…and crack…right?” he confirms as a waiter would in a restaurant.

“Yes! The OXY, the weed, and the crack. Come on! What is this? Amateur hour?” Burt exclaims impatiently.

“Yeah, I think it is,” the dealer agrees.  He digs into his sweater collar and pulls out a dog chain necklace. He tugs a little harder and reveals a badge. “You guys are under arrest.”

It was at this moment, Burt and Johnny knew they messed up.