The Doctor as Jesus Christ...

Tonight I stumbled about with a friend who is in serious fucking trouble lately...

He's become addicted to heroine, in the middle of a court custody battle over his son, because he began hanging out with a cute junky girl and because he's been an addict of all kinds before, for the majority of his life. Tonight, he was fighting the desire to get high by getting crazily drunk instead. The last two days, in fact, this has been his strategy. I've never seen this friend so fucked up in my life before; in fact, the entire time up til now that I've known him he's been completely sober...

Tonight, as we stumbled about the neiborhood together, him yelling obscene things to people on porches and on bikes, and punching cars and laughing manically, and me, also laughing manically because I get that way when I'm nervous and also when I see someone behaving so blantantly fucked up and obnoxious. He told me how he went to his counsilors appointment today with a forty of Camo in his hand and how his physicatrist walked him to the bus stop just to make sure he made it there. I felt that worried about him too; I really feel nervous about a drug with the power to get you hooked on it the first time you use it; a drug so strong that coming off of it will make you sick almost to death for a week or so.....to see my good friend The Doctor (as he calls himself,) slipping into such a trap....

"How do I look?" The Doctor asked me as we stumbled laughing away from a convienence store where he had just sauntered in, taken a forty from the cooler and sauntered out without paying.

"You look like Jesus Christ right before they crusified him.." I told him. It was true, he was naked from the waist up, clothed only in a pair of pants he's been wearing for months without washing, which he had apparently peed in today, judging by the salt residue you could see crusted on them. He was wearing his combat boots which are held together with duct tape and a black elastic band around his sweaty head which almost looked like it was holding his crazy, dreaded, multi-colored hair on. His eyes always look like they belong to someone possessed, a saint, a cult leader, a madman. This is who The Doctor is; a holy poet, as I had called him earlier.

He was looking for a suitable place to collapse and sleep he said, or die. I told him not to die, that he needed sleep but not death. He sang over and over again a love song he had played on the computer for me eariler that day. At the top of his lungs he belted "have you ever been in love?!!!" He tripped over a rough patch in the sidewalk as he exclaimed "I've been in love!!!!!!"

He kept trying to give me the beer he'd stolen; I kept giving it back to him, telling him I didn't want it. He lead me into the yard of some rich yuppy; he was trying to get to a piece of park known as The Bluffs. You can get to The Bluffs the way he was trying to go, but you'd have to walk through miles of blackberry brambles. After some half-naked man chased us out of his yard, The Doctor threw himself headlong into the blackberries. He whimpered like a small child as he struggled to free himself from the Himlayain Blackberries, which have barbs on them like barbed wire.

"Help me help me help me!!!" he yelled pathetically.

"Fuck you...I'm not going in there!!!!" I yelled back. I was wearing a skirt and had no intention of getting all torn up to try to help a drunken holy poet from his bed of torns. I started yelling all sorts of insults at him, knowing that it would rouse him to help himself.

"Fuck you asshole!" I yelled. "Get out of there you dumbass!"

"Help me you bitch!!!!" He yelled back. I heard him crashing through the brambles a bit, whimpering and then starting to whine again "help me help me help me!!!"

Finally, he got to where I was standing, insulting him. But before long he had plunged into another patch of blackberries and began the process all over again.

As he finally struggled out the second time, I yelled "how many times do you have to do that you dumbass...it is like a metafour for your life hu?"

He laughed manically and panting, grabbed a tree I was standing by.

After tresspassing on many more yards, having someone encourage a dog to attack us (but it didn't, it just looked at us and whimpered,) and getting yelled at for stealing water from a garden hose to fill up The Doctors' now empty beer can, so he wouldn't die of dehydration in the night, we finally made it to the Bluffs.

The Doctor looked more like Jesus Christ then ever, with the bleeding bramble scratches all over his body, his arguement with the yuppy lady just to get a little water (remember that Jesus cried out from the cross for water and someone offered him a sponge soaked in vingar,) and I felt like a fucking saint for having put up with all of that, just to make sure he was safe and finally in a place where he could pass out and hopefully not hurt himself or anyone else. He lay panting on the ground and I began pulling torns and bits of branches out of his skin.

"I'm going home...sleep and get sober..." I told him. He embraced me.

"I love you.." He said gently.
"I love you too...or I wouldn't have followed you all over tonight..."
"I know..." He smiled at me and laughed gently again.

Love ya,
Carrot