This is the story Dollhouse grew from. It was originally the first chapter, but I tore it out. A previous, unedited version of this story appears in A PRESSURE PRESS COLLECTION, a print anthology of works culled from the old PRESSURE PRESS board, that's now available online on
Issuu.
Tony Diggs was one junkie motherfucker.
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Talwin came in pill form and gave a junk high comparable to morphine. I’d heard the best thing to do with it was put a bunch of pills in water and let it sit overnight. Usually that didn’t happen. Usually you just crushed one in a spoon and added water, cotton and sucked up the juice into your works. But I’d happened onto a small supply of morphine so I put the pills in a jar of water and hid them in my rehearsal room, let them sit.
The girl I lived with had no idea I was fucking with junk again. I had the morphine bottles hidden with my works at our apartment. Morphine was a quick fix; no emptying out bags and cooking it, just put the needle in and draw it out. I could do two good shots in the time it took to take a piss. I had it all planned out, I’d do the morphine and then dry out for a few days as we had an engagement party to go to the next weekend. It didn’t work out like that.
We rented a basement from some doctor in the suburbs to practice in. The doctor’s office was upstairs and we could use it anytime after 5 and all weekend. It was a sweet deal; there was a parking lot out back and the rent was cheap. There was a toilet and sink down there, even a shower. Somebody had given us a couch, some chairs and tables. We had all our gear at one end where we would play and the lounging area at the other. The doctor had no idea the huge parties we threw some weekends. Kegs and hundreds of people, parking lot filled and overflow parking on the street.
That night there was no party. It was another weekday night and we ran through some songs. I wanted to keep the talwin juice to myself but couldn’t hold out.
“Let’s take a break,” I said after a half hour of playing. I had a bit of a chill. Withdrawal.
Nick, the bass player said, “Awww, come on man. We’re just getting warmed up.”
“Yeah, Tony,” Lonnie, the drummer said.
We were a three piece. A power trio. We had a couple of gigs coming up next month but were basically ready, just had to work out some arrangements to a few new songs. I ignored them and took off my guitar, walked over to the lounge area where I had the talwin juice hidden. They stayed on the “stage” and fucked around with some rhythms for one of our new songs.
“No, the accent is on this,” Nick said as he played a note. “This note,” he said.
Lonnie started the verse again and Nick fell in.
“Yeah, man!” Nick said.
“That sounds great!” I said from the other side of the room.
“What the hell are you doing over there?” Nick said.
“Oh, I got something,” I said.
I got the works from my jacket pocket and sat down on the couch, drew up a shot from the top of the juice. I’ll be dammed, I thought, it really did separate. The juice at the top was really yellow and underneath was just water. I tapped the bubbles out of it and shot it. Oh, yes. It was good. Way better than crushing pills into a spoon.
They came over and Nick asked what I had.
“Talwin. Want some?”
“Yeah,” they both said.
I went to the sink and cleaned the blood out of my works and handed them to Nick. He grabbed the jar and looked at it.
“Don’t shake it, man. The good juice is on the top,” I told him.
“Hell, we always just crushed them.”
“That’s no good. This is better. Believe me.”
“No cotton?”
“Naw, man; just draw up a shot from the top.”
“Where’d you get this stuff and hear of doing it like this?” Lonnie said.
“You know that Cindy girl?”
“The one that follows us around? The slut?”
“Yeah. She gave me a handful last Friday after our gig at Little Joe’s.”
Nick did a shot and sat back on the couch. “Oh, yeah, it is way better like this,” he said and then got up and cleaned out the works, handed them to Lonnie, sat back down.
“Whew,” he said. “Don’t do a full shot Lonnie.”
“Where’d she get the stuff?” Nick asked me as Lonnie drew up half a shot.
“She didn’t say, just gave me a handful,” I told him.
“So that’s what you were doing talking to her in the corner Friday night,” Nick said. “Wendy was sitting with us, asking what you were doing with her. She looked pissed.”
Lonnie did his half-shot and sat back on the couch. “Man,” he said, “that’s good shit.”
I’d walked by Cindy that night on my way to the men’s room and noticed she was crying. Some other band followed us and we were staying to see them instead of the usual break everything down and take it back to our room as soon as we were done. I sat down across from her in the booth after pissing, asked her if she was all right.
“No, I’m not all right Tony,” she said.
“Where’s your boyfriends?”
“Ahh, they’ve gone off somewhere. I don’t know. Are you really gonna marry that bitch?”
“Yeah,” I told her. “What’s been going on with you? You come to all our gigs and parties and now I see you here crying.”
She told me she had some cancer. I didn’t know what to say. What do you say. She was around the same age as me, 25.
“Oh, god Tony, don’t look at me like that. The doctors said I have a really good chance of beating it. For Christ sakes, don’t tell anyone; I’m just telling you cause you asked.”
I looked over at the table across the room where my Wendy sat with Nick and Lonnie, Lonnie’s girlfriend. Wendy glared hate-beams at me. I looked away, back at Cindy. She wiped the tears away with her sleeve.
“She’s got you pussy-whipped, man.”
“What.”
“Hell, I think it’s admirable that you stick with one woman. But I don’t think she’s the one for you.”
That’s the same kind of garbage Nick had been telling me. At first, I thought he was wrong. Lately, I wasn’t so sure. The only thing I really knew was only a real friend would throw something like that at you. I looked back at Wendy. She was talking to Monica, Lonnie’s girl. Cindy laughed at me.
“You should see the look on your face, Tony, ahaha! Quit looking over at her. You want a beer? Yeah, you want one. You sit, I’ll get.”
She didn’t give me a chance to reply. I looked back over at the table where Nick, Lonnie, my Wendy and Monica sat. They were drinking and laughing. I looked at the band playing. My old friend, Dean’s band. Dean was going into another long guitar solo and some people were dancing. Dean could drag out that Bowie song, The Jean Genie, for a half hour with his solo’s. Ridiculous. Cindy came back and gave me a bottle of beer. We toasted to something. She smiled.
“You junkie motherfucker,” she said.
“What.”
“Don’t pretend you don’t remember last month at Jake’s place. I blew Jake for a few Dilaudid. You watched after doing your shot.”
“I left.”
“You watched though. Did you go home and fuck Wendy?”
“No. We had dinner and watched TV.”
“Ha! Big rock star! You funny, man. Look, take these,” she said and handed me a bunch of pills. Then she told me about the cold soak method and gave me her number.
“We’ll get together. I’ll show you pussy-whipped and we’ll do shots. I have a script for these things.”
I put the pills and her number in my pocket. Then I leaned across the table and kissed her.
“Thanks,” I said, leaning back in my seat.
“Like I said, I have more pills.”
“No. Yeah. I mean, thanks for the pills but thanks for speaking your mind. I like that.”
She took my hands in hers and we looked at each other and she started to say something, then dropped my hands, looked away. Dean’s band was up there, playing something popular.
We finished our beers and she said she was leaving, that she couldn’t stand my friend’s band. I stood up and told her I’d call next week or something.
“Walk me to my car?”
“No. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“No. It wouldn’t be proper would it?” She traced her finger down my chest and stopped at my belt, laughed and walked out. It was a good walk. I looked around the room and noticed half the guys in the place watching also.
I went back to my place with my friends and soon to be wife.
“Did I see you kiss that bitch?” Wendy said.
“No,” I told her.
We went back to playing after the shots. Played for 2 more hours, working out 2 new songs as well as running through a set of others. It was Tuesday night and we were scheduled to practice Friday night also.
“You gonna save us some shots for next practice?” Nick asked as we were leaving.
“There still seems to be a lot there. I put in 20 pills. Yeah,” I told him.
“Cool,” he said.
“Yeah. Very cool,” Lonnie said.
They had no idea I’d been fucking with junk again either. Probably thought it was just this short binge, these pills. Nick and I had been through a junkie period a couple of years before and then straightened up. I acted like I was locking the door as they drove off. They both honked and waved and I waved back. Then I went back inside, did another shot and put the jar back in the cabinet. I locked the door and went to my car, started it and drove out of the parking lot, down the street. Then I turned around and drove back, got the jar and the works.
By Friday night, there was little left. There had been the chill Wednesday morning and I did a shot before work, something I had never done. It had continued through the rest of the week. I gave those guys the rest after doing 2 shots before practice, before they showed up. They said it was pretty weak and I took the jar and poured it down the sink.
“It’s just water now,” I told them.
Saturday, I woke up with the chill. I’d lost count of the shots and both my arms were bruised and filled with little holes. It was a good thing it was winter and I could hide it with long-sleeved shirts. After feeding the cat I drove my fiancé and I to the engagement party her parents were having for us. It was like 30 miles away, out in the country, nice house. I kissed her stepmother and shook her father’s hand at the door. They had a grand feast prepared: roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans and corn. Pie and ice cream for desert.
The talk rolled on. “Have you set a date? This is so exciting. I’m so glad my daughter found a good man.”
“We haven’t set a date yet,” Wendy said and looked at me.
“Can I have more wine?” I said.
“Yes. Surely.” Her stepmother said.
“I’ll get it. You sit,” I told her.
“Oh, fine. Such a gentleman. It’s in the fridge.”
I went out into the kitchen and looked in the fridge. Wendy yelled, “Bring the bottle!” and I heard some laughter. I was hurting. Grabbed the bottle and was about to walk back out when I saw something else in there. A bottle of paregoric with the stepmother’s name on it. Ahh, I thought. Figures. Skinny bitch. I swilled down half the bottle. Paregoric was mostly prescribed to people with chronic diarrhea. It was a way better junk kick than talwin but tasted really bad. It’s funny how I knew about all these drugs but didn’t know anything about love. I took the wine back out into the dining room and ceremoniously poured Wendy a glass. Her stepmother and father wanted more too so I poured for them. Her dad made a toast and we all smiled and drank. It was horrible. It hit me then I would never marry this woman.
They then gave us some presents. Wendy opened them while I sat there, the junk kicking in from the paregoric. I started feeling really good, then thought, maybe I shouldn’t have drank half the bottle. The shitter started clearing the table and I said, I’d help. We took dishes into the kitchen and she gave me a long look, sighed. Then she did the same thing Cindy had done the other night. Ran her finger down my chest and stopped at my Budweiser belt buckle. She pulled at my buckle a bit and giggled, put a finger over her mouth.
“Jesus, Janis. Frank and Wendy are right in the other room,” I whispered.
“It’s delicious, isn’t it?”
“What.”
“You’re a really good kisser,” she said and then laid a kiss on me. Her tongue darted around inside my mouth. Then I remembered kissing her on the neck a few months earlier when I was drunk at some dinner party. It was a foggy memory but I think I had my hand on her ass, that I grabbed it good and pulled her crotch onto mine and ground a bit. Oh.
I did the same thing again. My dick started getting hard. It was stupid, ridiculous. She moaned a bit as we wrestled tongues. She ground herself on my leg.
“All in the family. Right?” she asked me.
“Sure, Janis.”
She backed off and laughed, yelled into the other room, “Oh, your son in-law is such a hoot Frank!”
“What are you two doing out there?” Frank yelled back.
“Yeah! He’s my man, Janis,” Wendy said and then laughed.
Me and Janis went and cleared the rest of the table off.
“Tony said he’s going to help me with the dishes,” Janis told them.
“I did?”
Frank said it looked like I was drafted and there was some more laughter. Wendy laughed loudest. Janis insisted everyone drink more wine and opened another bottle, filled up everyone’s glasses.
“Janis?” Frank said and gave her a look.
“Oh, don’t worry Frank. It’s just for this night,” she insisted. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Frank said it was surely wonderful and I went back out into the kitchen with Janis. I could hear Wendy telling her dad that I had a record out that was being played on the radio across the USA.
“Is that true?” Janis asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll wash, you dry.”
“All right,” I told her.
She started washing dishes and I stood behind her, feeling her ass. I reached around and felt her tits a bit then started tracing my hands down her belly.
“I’m gonna fuck you raw someday,” she whispered over her shoulder.
I sucked at her neck. I wanted to leave a good suck mark for some reason. She batted me away.
“All right,” she said. “Cut it out. Dry the dishes.”
She handed me a plate and I put it back in the water, told her I had to go to the bathroom. I went to the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and looked. Mucho pills. Pills upon pills. Bottles and bottles. I rooted around a bit. Found valium. Thought about it and put the bottle back. Then, there it was. Percodan! Wonder of wonders. I took a few out and put them in my pocket then took a piss. Then I emptied the rest of the bottle in my hand and counted them. 30. Mmmm, yes. I put them in my pocket and put the bottle back, went back out and dried the dishes with the junkie shitter.
By the end of the evening I had somehow also weaseled the rest of the bottle of paregoric into my coat. Wendy took the presents to the car and I shook Frank’s hand.
Wendy waved, said, “Thanks dad! See you Janis!”
They waved back and Janis got me in a lip lock again when I kissed her goodbye.
“Janis!” Frank yelled at her.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry about that, Tony,” he told me. “She gets like that when she drinks.”
“That’s all right Frank,” I said. The door slammed behind me as I walked down to the car. I heard some yelling. Wendy didn’t see anything. She was already passed out in the passenger seat.
She got like that when she drank.
It was cold out but I rolled down my window and howled as I drove the country roads back home. “Wendy! We’re gonna be married!” I yelled. Nothing. Dead to the world asleep. I had to carry her up 3 floors when we got back to the city. Back to the slum apartment we lived in. I threw her on the bed, thought of ripping off her clothes and fucking her but just for a second. No. I went out into the living room and turned on our little black and white TV. We didn’t have cable and there was three and a half channels of nothing. I smoked a little weed and drank the rest of the bottle of paregoric. I hid the Percodan deep in a dresser drawer and went back out, played my acoustic guitar a bit, looking at the snow I’d dialed in on the TV. Our cat sat there looking at me.
A week went by before I was done with the pills. I had expected a call about the missing drugs at her father’s place but there was none that I heard of. The shitter probably just chalked it up as a loss and didn’t say anything to Frank. She probably had a new script by then. I thought of fucking her. I went out on deliveries one day at my job and stopped in at Dave’s place. He had 50$ bags of heroin. I did one and saved one. Then I delivered printed forms to the state capitol and other places downtown. I was still thinking of fucking Janis, it was stupid, I couldn’t get around it. I thought of fucking other women but never once thought of fucking Wendy who I’d promised to marry.
More weeks. I went through withdrawal. The cat, the girl, and the couch. I quit my job and laid on the couch. Then I got another job. Then we had a gig and Cindy was there. She said she had dilaudid. I walked her to her car that night and kissed her. Then I told her to wait and went back in to tell Wendy I was leaving her. She was sitting with some guy that had been hanging around our gigs who I thought came to see us.
“Tony?” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
“This is Greg.”
“Hiya,” Greg said.
“I hope you and your slut have someplace to go tonight,” she said, really calm-like.
“Yeah. You bastard,” Greg said.
