Rucario
Madam you see before you stand
- 527
- Posts
- 16
- Years
- Sam's Town, Las Vegas
- Seen Oct 4, 2015
Has some cursing.
Chapter 1:
I admit....
John slid his back against the sofa cushion as the edge of his leather jacket folded and creased. It was his niece's 21st birthday party and she was having it at her and her family's house. No alcohol whatsoever. No smoking whatsoever. No fun.... whatsoever. John was now 44 years old, but he felt as if he was 89. He used to be a guitarist, occasional bassist, occasional vocalist, and backup vocalist for a rock band known as "Recovvery" in the early 2000s. He was a drug addict. He admitted it without pride and with a frown on his face. He leaned his back on the couch as his family mixed and mingled with each other. He was zoned out completely. Thinking of his former life of rock 'n roll and the mistakes that were easily avoidable. He hated Recovvery. It was the biggest mistake of his life. He was the safe one. He had never gotten piercings or tattoos like the other members of the band. Of course, he was the only drug addict and alcoholic. He sat up again, adjusting his jacket as his niece walked in.
"Uncle Johny, what are you doing here?!" She said in fear that he would ruin something like the last time he came over at her "Sweet 16" where he got drunk and pulled out a 45. caliber pistol and shot the speaker that was playing Eminem and other rap music.
"What the hell does it look like I'm doing, Jenifer? I'm sitting here with all of the ass holes that I try to avoid regularly to come here for some liquor until I find out that they don't allow booze." He said, adjusting his leather jacket again.
"Oh shut up! Just because you were popular 20 years ago doesn't mean you are still cool, you old bastard!" Jenifer's boyfriend, Shane, interjected.
"And who are you? Her damned bodyguard? I don't need this.." John said, pulling out a cigarette. He pulled the wheel back and lit it. He sat and puffed until it reached halfway when he just stamped it into the half of birthday cake he hadn't finished.
Shane stood and brushed his black hair out of his eyes and slowly whispered to Jenifer.
"Is he always like this?"
"No, usually he would have shot someone by now."
"Someone should put him in his place..."
"Where? Rehab?"
"No...." Shane stopped and pulled out his father's M9 pistol. "....Hell." he finished.
Shane pointed the handgun at John as John looked over at the gazing family as they stared in fear that they would shoot John. John looked at Michael, his brother and Jen's father, and slowly opened his mouth to say what they thought would be his last words.
"What the hell does a man have to do to get a piece of freaking cake around here."
He slowly stood up to walk over to the kitchen where he cut himself another piece of cake. He walked back to the sofa where he reclined the chair and took a bite of the cake. He turned his head to Shane who was still pointing the gun at him. Sweat was perspiring from his forehead and an expression that mixed fear and anger was on his face. John reached for the knife that was on his plate, causing Shane to rest his finger on the trigger. The tension in the back of Shane's neck were causing him to move to the left a bit, but he wouldn't show weakness. "Just cutting a piece off so that it's easier for me to chew, son." John said calmly. Shane yelped in pain as his neck twitched. John aligned the knife with Shane's right leg and tossed it at him. The knife hung in his calf as John stood up and stretched as he set his plate on the sidetable beside the couch while he neared the exit, in which Jenifer was standing with Shane in her arms. Shane screamed as the blood poured from his leg.
"Good party, Jen. Can't wait for the 22nd. Thanks for the invite. Cake sucked, though. Tell Shane to hang in there. See you in another 5 years. Bye."
He stepped outside into his car and drove home. He entered his disorderly home and looked around. He knew what he was going to do. At 3:23 AM, John drove to the Rehabilitation Center of Chicago an hour away. A woman sat at a desk.
"My name is John Drane. I would like to check in."
"You need to pay first, sir."
"I know. Whatever. Just. Get me in...."
He handed the woman $2,000,043.54 and walked in. It was all of the money he had left, and he wanted to make sure that it didn't go back into drugs. When he walked in, he sat down in a room and slept until 8:05 AM when a tall, black haired, woman around the age of 50 walked in.
"Hello, Mr. Drane. My name is Dr. Trella, I notice that you have an addiction? According to your files, it says that you have an addiction to heroine."
"No... it should say marijuana, but I don't."
"Why are you here, then?"
"For my violent and erratic behavior."
"Mr. Drane, the first step to eliminating a problem is admitting you have a problem."
"For God's sakes, I tell you it's because I am angry!"
"Mr. Drane, please...."
"Alright... I.... I um.. I admit... that I have a problem...."
Chapter 1:
I admit....
John slid his back against the sofa cushion as the edge of his leather jacket folded and creased. It was his niece's 21st birthday party and she was having it at her and her family's house. No alcohol whatsoever. No smoking whatsoever. No fun.... whatsoever. John was now 44 years old, but he felt as if he was 89. He used to be a guitarist, occasional bassist, occasional vocalist, and backup vocalist for a rock band known as "Recovvery" in the early 2000s. He was a drug addict. He admitted it without pride and with a frown on his face. He leaned his back on the couch as his family mixed and mingled with each other. He was zoned out completely. Thinking of his former life of rock 'n roll and the mistakes that were easily avoidable. He hated Recovvery. It was the biggest mistake of his life. He was the safe one. He had never gotten piercings or tattoos like the other members of the band. Of course, he was the only drug addict and alcoholic. He sat up again, adjusting his jacket as his niece walked in.
"Uncle Johny, what are you doing here?!" She said in fear that he would ruin something like the last time he came over at her "Sweet 16" where he got drunk and pulled out a 45. caliber pistol and shot the speaker that was playing Eminem and other rap music.
"What the hell does it look like I'm doing, Jenifer? I'm sitting here with all of the ass holes that I try to avoid regularly to come here for some liquor until I find out that they don't allow booze." He said, adjusting his leather jacket again.
"Oh shut up! Just because you were popular 20 years ago doesn't mean you are still cool, you old bastard!" Jenifer's boyfriend, Shane, interjected.
"And who are you? Her damned bodyguard? I don't need this.." John said, pulling out a cigarette. He pulled the wheel back and lit it. He sat and puffed until it reached halfway when he just stamped it into the half of birthday cake he hadn't finished.
Shane stood and brushed his black hair out of his eyes and slowly whispered to Jenifer.
"Is he always like this?"
"No, usually he would have shot someone by now."
"Someone should put him in his place..."
"Where? Rehab?"
"No...." Shane stopped and pulled out his father's M9 pistol. "....Hell." he finished.
Shane pointed the handgun at John as John looked over at the gazing family as they stared in fear that they would shoot John. John looked at Michael, his brother and Jen's father, and slowly opened his mouth to say what they thought would be his last words.
"What the hell does a man have to do to get a piece of freaking cake around here."
He slowly stood up to walk over to the kitchen where he cut himself another piece of cake. He walked back to the sofa where he reclined the chair and took a bite of the cake. He turned his head to Shane who was still pointing the gun at him. Sweat was perspiring from his forehead and an expression that mixed fear and anger was on his face. John reached for the knife that was on his plate, causing Shane to rest his finger on the trigger. The tension in the back of Shane's neck were causing him to move to the left a bit, but he wouldn't show weakness. "Just cutting a piece off so that it's easier for me to chew, son." John said calmly. Shane yelped in pain as his neck twitched. John aligned the knife with Shane's right leg and tossed it at him. The knife hung in his calf as John stood up and stretched as he set his plate on the sidetable beside the couch while he neared the exit, in which Jenifer was standing with Shane in her arms. Shane screamed as the blood poured from his leg.
"Good party, Jen. Can't wait for the 22nd. Thanks for the invite. Cake sucked, though. Tell Shane to hang in there. See you in another 5 years. Bye."
He stepped outside into his car and drove home. He entered his disorderly home and looked around. He knew what he was going to do. At 3:23 AM, John drove to the Rehabilitation Center of Chicago an hour away. A woman sat at a desk.
"My name is John Drane. I would like to check in."
"You need to pay first, sir."
"I know. Whatever. Just. Get me in...."
He handed the woman $2,000,043.54 and walked in. It was all of the money he had left, and he wanted to make sure that it didn't go back into drugs. When he walked in, he sat down in a room and slept until 8:05 AM when a tall, black haired, woman around the age of 50 walked in.
"Hello, Mr. Drane. My name is Dr. Trella, I notice that you have an addiction? According to your files, it says that you have an addiction to heroine."
"No... it should say marijuana, but I don't."
"Why are you here, then?"
"For my violent and erratic behavior."
"Mr. Drane, the first step to eliminating a problem is admitting you have a problem."
"For God's sakes, I tell you it's because I am angry!"
"Mr. Drane, please...."
"Alright... I.... I um.. I admit... that I have a problem...."