Fuck, fuck, fuck. Donny has money, but no drugs. Things are usually the inverse. Dealers would have some, with Donny tripping over himself to pony up the money. Now, the tables were turned.

Death in a jar. That's what Chase had said. The guy was still within his real personality enough to see the disaster of addiction. Donny had blundered through his own path, getting ahead of himself and his limited knowledge. Donny didn't know it would get this bad.

Death in a jar. Holy shit. Donny was gonna die from this. He always wished for death, but perhaps deep down he knew he would keep his life. His relapse was a thing of epic failure. It only took the mere sight of that grim reaper in a capsule, to be back on the fringes of the community. Donny was freezing. He had walked all the way over here, hellbent on getting his fix. It was for naught. Now, the walk back. Donny realized he may have to be around Amanda while sober. He wondered if he could do that. 

Donny stopped by Eugene's, to warm up. As Donny walks up the frozen sluice of the driveway, he pauses. A black van is parked in the cramped section by Eugene's porch. It appears as though the vehicle is muscling in, wedged between the house and that of the neighbor. There is barely enough room to enter. Donny squeezes through the gap between the frame of the van, and the frame of the house. 

Donny knocks. A long wait. He knocks again. The padding of feet on the hardwood is heard. An asian man answers. It must be Eugene's roommate. 

"Hey," Donny says, trying to keep his teeth from chattering together, "is Eugene home?"

"Yeah, he's upstairs," the Asian dude says, walking away from the door.

Donny closes the front door and follows the Asian dude into the living room.

"My name's Donny," 

"Yoshito. People call me Yoshi."

"Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to be met." 

Yoshi plops down in a chair and reclines, with the footrest up. Being Asian, Yoshi is a little on the small side, his feet coming well short from the edge of the footrest. His gray pants and matching sweatshirt are emblazoned with exotic japanese writing. Or maybe it's cantonese. Donny can't tell.

"So, are you chinese, or japanese?"

Yoshi gives an annoyed look. It is not exactly a racist question, but is very abrasive way of starting a talk with a stranger.

"Japanese," Yoshi answers, turning back towards the film he is watching. It is a dark film noir style. A detective is fighting someone on the street.

"Cool," Donny says, patting his hands together nervously, "do you--"

Donny forgets what he was going to say. His eyes catch something marvelous on the coffee table by Yoshi. A piece of tinfoil lay there. Dark streaks of brownish black run down the length of the metal. Donny recognizes an Oxy foiley when he sees one. The smell is something like thick incense. Donny's nose had been plugged up and didn't smell it. Until now. Donny glances back up. Yoshi is looking at him. His almond eyes drop, down to the tinfoil, then back up at Donny. Donny opens his mouth to say something when Eugene steps in.

"How's it hanging, Donny?" Eugene asks. Without warning, Eugene sits beside Donny, and throws one of his legs across Donny's lap.

"You're looking good Donny," Eugene says playfully.

"Get off me, you fag," Donny says, shoving the intrusive limb away, "I thought black people were homophobic."

"Don't be so judgmental," Eugene jests, "just because I put it in the pink, doesn't mean I won't put it in the stink, either."

They both laugh. 

"You guys are a couple of gay-wads," Yoshi comments, as he turns up the volume on the TV. Eugene gestures to the kitchen and they both rise to leave. Donny glances back at the coffee table. The foil is now gone. Yoshi worked silently to hide it, like a ninja. Or a samurai, whatever the Japanese one was. Donny didn't know.

"You want some grub?" Eugene asks, as he opens the fridge. The light inside flickers.

"I'm not hungry," Donny says. 

"It's not like you to turn down food," Eugene says, looking surprised, "you really do look good, man. No joke. You get into that shelter, or something?"

"I shacked up with a broad," Donny says, "she's been feeding me, and letting me stay there."

"Alright, bro!!" Eugene says joyously, "you getting laid, too?"

"Yup," Donny says with bravado. 

"Thataboy," Eugene says, "you got a home now bro. Pussy will keep you there, too."

Donny sighs. Amanda's puss was more of a deterrent, rather than a bonus. He didn't tell Eugene that, though. Donny is asked more about her, but Donny evades. He doesn't want him to find out she's fat. 

"Hey Eugene," Donny asks, "do you think Yoshi could help me out?"

"With what?" Eugene asks warily.

"I saw his stuff," Donny says very lowly, "chasing the drgaon. can he sell me some OC?"

Eugene was forking ham and potatoes into his mouth when Donny makes this request. 

"Fwuck gnow" Eugene says, his mouth full of food.

"c'mon dude," Donny says whiningly, "I need it."

"I don't ask about his business," Eugene protests, "he just buys weed from me, and he deals, to get his little somethig' somethin'. that's all I know, and I don't bother him about it."

Donny studies Eugene in much the same way he did Chase earlier. How did Donny and Eugene first meet? It must've been at Chase's during a mutual drug deal. THey had gone in on a bag together. They really hit it off. Donny hadn't really known a lot of black people back then, and it took a little getting used to Eugene's slang and way of acting. But once mary jane smoothed over their differences, they were like two peas in a pod. Eugene's earlier Chicago days left him cynical and dark. Donny found their sense of humors were similarly matched. When living together, Donny and Eugene had helped each other out mutually. Eugene wasn't too keen with money, and many times Donny had to bail him out financially, to make the house payment. 

Eugene was one person Donny never wanted to betray. Involving Eugene in Donny's drug purchases was a sure-fire method of soliciting this betrayal, however.

"Please, Eugene," Donny pleads, "I need it to get through."

Eugene's eyes take on an intense quality that Donny dislikes. Donny and Eugene have never really fought. At least, not physically. They had shouting matches like all roommates eventually do, but nothing ever came of it. Donny wonders if he can take Eugene, if it came down to it. Probably not. Donny was neither fighter, nor lover.

"I tell you what, Donny," Eugene says, with a strange grin, "I'll make a deal with you."

Eugene tosses his emptied plate into the sink. The fork rattles against the ceramic dish loudly.

"I'll buy one Oxy tablet," Eugene says carefully, "if you go into the methadone clinic."

Donny studies him for a few. The pathways in Donny's noggin didn't function as well as they used to. He was a burn-out, trying to manage input.

"Fuck yeah!!" Donny agrees.

It isn't as simple as that, though. Eugene stipulates that Donny must also shovel out his hatchback car from the street. Eugene lived on the path of an emergency snow route. The snowplow cut a swath through the streets, encasing the hatchback in a bank. 

Eugene had 2 shovels, but one was broken, with no handle. The one Eugene used was a dinky plastic one. Donny is presented with the handleless tool. They get to work. It was tough going. It wasn't just solid powder. Frozen chunks of ice were nestled among the accumulation. Donny wasn't familiar with the efforts of chores anymore. His labors were associated with maintaining the chemical levels his blood required. 

Once free, the compact vehicle was started up, and allowed to run.

"Do you think you can give me a ride across town?" Donny asks, "to my girlfriend's?"

"Sure thing," Eugene says, "after we head down to the methadone clinic."

Donny ceases his grin. 

"What?" he asks.

"we're going down there, today. No discussion." Eugene says.

"I was gonna do it tomorrow," Donny says persuasively, "besides, you haven't got me my dose yet."

"I was waiting till after we got the shoveling' done," Eugene says, tossing his kiddie shovel onto the lawn, "shit might get intense, if Yoshi freaks out about me asking him. I wanted to be able to leave right after."

Donny sits down onto the hood of Eugene's ride. Nothing was assured. the Oxy pill was now in question. Several minutes go by. Donny hears no shouting, or even raised voices. What he can almost hear are the tremors that resonate along the faultlines of their acquaintanceship.

Eugene finally exits. He slams the front door heavily. Donny jumps at the sound. He wears a brown corduroy jacket, with a hoodie sweatshirt beneath it. Eugene smartly tugs the hood on, partially obscuring his face.  Eugene mutters to himself as he navigates the perilous walkway. 

"Get in." Eugene says roughly. Donny does so. 

Halfway down the block, Eugene tosses a ziploc baggie to Donny.

"You're fucking up my shit, Donny," Eugene says, "I might be in bad with my boy Yoshi now. Shit's fucked."

"Thanks Eugene." Donny says.

"I expect to be repaid," Eugene says in a tight tone, "once you get on the methadone, you gotta stabilize man. I took it out of his share of the rent this month."

"I'm telling you, Eugene, I can talk to those guys tomorrow."

"It's now or never," Eugene says determinedly, "my God tells me to try to help this fool beside me."

"Your God is not my God." Donny says resoundingly in the car. 

"I know. That's why I said 'my god'. I don't really know if you can get outta your situation, unless you let god take over. It's part of the 12 step program, fo sho. Give it over to a higher power."

Donny examines the pill. It is a 40 milligram tablet. He can creep along a few more days with this.

"Jesus says I gotta help you," Eugene says, patting the steering wheel with his hands, "but I'm not sure how much help I have to give anymore. I think this is the last stop, partner."

Donny wants nothing more than to snort part of this pill right away, but keeps it in check while in Eugene's car.

"I heard through the grapevine that you've been stealing," Eugene reveals, "you took from that guy who had his store shot to shit."

Donny stares blankly ahead at the tunnels of snow to either side of them. Donny was infamous. It played off of Greg's exposure. To rob a hero was to increase ones ill reputation.

"I would normally never cast you aside," Eugene says eloquently, "but if you stay on the Oxy, you can't come over no more. I might have the same conversation with Yoshi now. The dude's getting hung up on the junk, almost as bad as you. He didn't want to give up even that one pill, even though he had what looked like a months supply, to me."

Donny listens with more than just his lobes. Eugene was a trusted ally. Maybe Donny really should listen for once. He gives no further protests to Eugene about the clinic.

He filled out some paperwork. It got the ball rolling. Donny was honest on his application sheet. Admiting he had a drug problem to others was supposedly the first step to getting better. If he could get the methadone legally, he would do it. Time to fess up. In the "other information" column, Donny jotted down that this was his second relapse, and he was also homeless. Using his circumstances from before justifies lying about living with Amanda. Something tells Donny it will not work out with her. Call it instinct.

Eugene drops him off at Amandas.

"Goodbye, Donny," Eugene says, extending his hand. Donny takes it.

"This ain't goodbye, Eugene," Donny insists, "I'll get on the methadone. I will."

"Goodbye, Donny," Eugene repeats, and there is the sprinkle of tears in his eyes. Has he given up on him?

Donny shuts the tiny door of the car. The engine revved like a weedwhacker, making Donny smile as Eugene pulled away. Donny couldn't go back to Eugene's for refuge now. There might be a feud between Yoshi and Mean Gene. Oh, woe is Donald Grieves.

Amanda has come back. Donny is greeted by a torrent of questions.

"Where were you?" Amanda asks right away.

"Out." Donny says.

"Out where?"

"Just--out."

"I bought some food for you earlier. I thought you'd be home. You didn't lock my front door, either!!"

"How was I supposed to come back in?" Donny asks, "you haven't given me a key."

"Did you clean the bathroom like I asked you, Don-Don?"

"Yes, Amanda."

"come eat your dinner, please."

"Yes, mom."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

Donny eats his stale hardshell tacos cold. Amanda loaded up on the cheap food, but bought herself a meaty burrito that looks much better than Donny's hard-shells. Beggars can't be choosers, Donny reminds himself. 

They sit on the couch beside one another. Donny had hooked up her computer to the big screen, so she could stream movies online and have a large picture. They were watching a pirated movie, but Donny wasn't into it. The video was shot inside a theater, bootleg style. Donny had no qualms about the illegal copying, but the "cinematographer" who shot this particular one was not oscar quality. Part of the screen was cut off, and the heavy breathing of the person filming overshadowed almost all dialogue. It was supposed to be an action movie, but the scenes could barely be discerned. There was something glitchy about the autofocus on the camera, and during fast-flying scenes, the camera would go nuts and make everything blurry. It was pointless. They might as well just gone and seen the actual movie. 

Amanda was getting tight with her money. Donny asked her for a ten spot, but she said rent was due, and she had to conserve. "conserve, my ass," Donny thinks. THe way she ate, and drank, and approached life, she was definitely not a conservationist. 

Amanda was irritated with the movie as well. She grabbed her keyboard  and started searching online. Donny was aghast as she found a porn sight. Uh-oh. She wanted intimacy again.

"Let's watch this," she says, picking out a teacher/student scenario to watch. As the video began buffering, he felt her hands working at his zipper. Donny closes his eyes. He didn't want this. 

"You can jerk off in front of me," she says huskily, "let me get my dildo."

No. This was not a fantasy, but an unpleasant chimera. Amanda came back, with a plastic bag. It was heavy. Donny could hear the thunk as it was set on the table. Once the vibrator portion was turned on, Donny hopped up from his seat. 

"Whatsa matter?" she asks, toggling the switch back to off.

"I gotta piss first," Donny said, scurrying to the bathroom.

"Good idea," Amanda says, "you'll be able to get a bigger boner if you don't have to pee."

Donny divided up the pill Eugene had given into fourths. He snorted one portion. He felt himself mellowing out now. Maybe he could still do this. He wondered what steps to take once all the dope disappeared. Maybe he could get Amanda to try some, in the attempt to get her paying for his supply. Donny puts his hands to his face and rubs furiously.

He shouldn't get Amanda addicted. Then, they would simply be two strung-out junkies, ready to backstab each other, given the opportunity. All for the drugs. Donny was torn.

His decision came to him as he stepped back into the living room. Amanda was diddling herself, and the sight was wretched. She literally was pushing her mound of fat stomach to the side in order to see her genitalia. Donny turns his head away in disgust. He sees himself in the mirror hanging from one wall. 

It startles him. Who is that? It can't be me, Donald thinks. thanks to Amanda's leg razors, He was clean-shaven, but that only highlighted his disastrous looking face. His recessed cheeks were hollow, making his features pointed and severe. Donny's frown lines framed practically all of his features.  It was like looking at a gargoyle. His eyes were monstrous with greedy intent. He was inhuman. His bears coat looked several sizes too big now. It was true Donny had put on weight, but before that the weight was dropping off in inches. He is malnourished, the body mass index not in correct proportion for his height. HIs posture was humped over, maybe from all the months of crawling around under the gazebo. Or, it may be scoliosis of the spine. In either case, his back was warped. 

Donny is shocked. How long had it been since he looked at his own reflection? He had shaved, but never aimed a real hard look towards his sockets. He couldn't face himself, and looking in his own eyes was out of the question. Donny is still high, and unwittingly, he waves his hand in front of his face, as if to check if that sadistic man staring back really is him. Yes. The hand waves in sync with the mirror.

"Don-Don???" Amanda asks, with more than a trace of confusion. Donny looks over at her. Her colossal panties were pulled down by her ankles. Her vagina was sweaty and pungent. He could smell her from across the room. How had he managed to go down on that and not vomit? She was a back-to-front girl. In hygiene class in school, they taught to wipe your anus front-to-back, to avoid fecal matter staining your genitals. the bottom of Amanda's taint and twat was brownish, from years of shitting, and wiping the improper direction. Amanda was a back-to-front girl.

"I've gotta go," Donny says hurriedly.

"Go where?" she asks.

"To get cigarettes."

Frantically, he swoops through the apartment, grabbing all the possessions he has left. It isn't much. His hat, shoes, and coat are all his worldly goods. He leaves before she can reply. It occurs to Donny that he doesn't even smoke. At least, not cigarettes. Amanda doesn't even get a brief explanation. He just exits, and never sees her again. He pauses. There were 2 pairs of nice jeans that Amanda had bought him lying in the bedroom chest of drawers. Donny debates going back to them. He decides to keep walking.

Donny wished. He didn't wish for death. He wished to beat this affliction. For Ben. For Greg. For his mother Marissa. For himself.