Chapter 1

          She tells me she has problems. I tell her that I’m the answer—the solution—to those problems.

          I don’t know what kind of problems she has. I don’t care. I’m just telling her what she wants to hear. The way I’ve been taught.

          She says she feels lost.

          I tell her that I’m God.

          I tell her that I’ll save her from it all. I’m lying, just the way they taught me, but she still listens. She still believes. Drugs do bizarre things to one’s faith.

          I don’t tell her that I’m just a weekend security guard. I don’t even carry a gun on the job.

          I don’t tell her that I’m not God. She can figure that out herself.

          I don’t tell her that I haven’t slept in a week. She might try to act concerned, and I don’t want that. I hate for people to offer me advice with my “best interest at heart.” Not that I think she really cares about me, I know she doesn’t. She’s only here for drugs and sex. Then again, maybe she only wants drugs but thinks she has to have sex with me to get them—which is, in a way, true. I don’t just give shit away. Of course, I take money as well.

          Some people think I’m a loser. A scumbag. A low-down, dirty, piece-of-shit.

          An addict. A criminal. A dope dealer.

          The truth is they come to me for the shit. It’s not like I go out and advertise. It’s not like I have sponsors. You won’t find me doing a commercial during the Superbowl, trying to persuade people to jump on the bandwagon. People seek me out when they want to buy dope. I can’t help that. I give them what they want to make them go away.

          Besides, I don’t sell enough to be called a dealer anyway. I’m more like an addict.

          This particular girl, the one lying naked here beside me, drugged up and ready to pass out and reeking of sex—this particular girl is just some girl I met at the bar last night. I don’t even remember her name, or if she ever told me. I went in to have a few drinks, hooked up with her, she asked me if I knew anything, and BAM!

          Here we are…the morning after.

          We’ve been up all night. Dope has that effect whether you want it to or not. She says she wants some more, of what I don’t know, but I don’t have time. I have to go to work.
   
          I hate to be an asshole but I got things to do, so I tell her very impolitely to leave. She throws a fit, calls me some names I won’t repeat, and I just smile. She leaves. I head to work.

        Perfect way to start the day...