Jack was a junkie. And not your Hollywood-boipic-learning-lessons-at-the-end one, your friendly neighborhood go-getter down on his luck, fuck that; he was a trite, lecherous little cunt who would do anything to get a fix. Shit, Jack was a junkie like Gates was just an "IT guy". He was the goddamn definition of it, truly. Thing was, he wasn't always like that. Choices, or lacktherof, made Jack who Jack was.
See, first, it was mild, what he did. Little shit, like spinning in place, hanging upside down for as long as his legs would hold--just changing the way the world was to him, I guess. Don't blame him. Dude was raised by his fucked up aunt and uncle; anyone would. So it starts like that, right? Then it builds, and builds, until he's downing cases by the night of piss water or straight rocket fuel. Well, you know, that was Highschool. Raging was less a concept and more a battlecry to him. The dude was rabid about it, too. And this...eagerness he was down with, it led to the first time everyone seeing that fuckin' black-as-night beast come alive. Harrowing shit, man, I'm telling you.
So, I guess, like, to protect name rights, all that or whatever, I'm just gonna name these folks by Jack's seemingly favorite word. I mean, once he gets fucked up, it's like a speech impediment or something--he can't stop saying it, calling people it. Anyway, I'm just gonna refer to them as Piggy. (I'm guessing it's because of the police. But no-one really knows). These are the quick lowdowns on these, uh, Piggies.
Piggy One, he was an emo kid. Skinny, downtrodden, always moving his hair. He had the hookup on pharmaceuticals at school. Had an older brother that pushed it for all sorts of companies, and to his credit, the brother was down with it. I know, All in the Family, right? Anyway, Jack got most of his booze from this kid, too. Easy access for Piggy One, meant easy money. So he had nice little thing going. No-one ratted, everyone got booze. Fine entrepreneur, this lad. Well, one Friday night, a little before graduation, I think it was, and as was custom on Friday night, Jack walked to Piggy One's place to pick up his alcohol. Except, this time, I guess Piggy One wasn't having it, probably for a goddamn laundry list of reasons I imagine, so he told him no. Then they get to arguing, more and more, until Jack just snaps. Like, mental-patient-snaps. He suddenly goes buck-wild in Piggy One's room, tearing shit up, punching holes in drywall, kicking over trophies and sculptures and shit, yelling, and as Piggy One is trying to calm him down, Jack just keeps getting louder. Until he's so loud, neighbors are out in the street, some banging on his door, ringing his door bell and shit. And then, Jack stops, totally silent, right? Piggy One is in the room, sees he's fucking--just--gone, man. Like parallel-worlds, black-out drunk: gone. And then Jack drops his pants, his boxers, reaches around his ass, shits in his hands, I kid you not, then smears it all over Piggy One's walls, and bed, and floor; everywhere. He went straight bonkers. So the cops came, found out about Piggy One. Word got out fast. Then the school intervened. Had to, according to them. New policy meant he and Piggy One went bye-bye, just like that. Examples, or whatever. Didn't even get to graduate. But Jack never recovered. Shit just got...sadder from there on. No-one really cared, though. No-one really knew him. He was background to them, to everyone, really. But, holy shit, do I remember.
Piggy Two, was...unfortunate. I mean, Jack was on hard times by then. The dude was basically on the streets. He spent all his time and money on oxxies, and in search of. It was a few years after Piggy One that I heard about Piggy Two. He was that older brother of Piggy One. Some Hills-type character; silver cars, platinum plastic; all that shit. Was making bank pushing legal meds and the like. Swanky pad, blonde holster in tow, the works. So, somehow, Jack got this dude's address, and after one particularity bad come-down, the bite was too much and he, as many crackheads can be, became suddenly very industrious and focused on how to get that all-warm embrace of more. Anyway, long story short, Jack breaks into this dude's house, alarm goes off. Piggy Two comes hauling-ass back home, after an automatic text alert was sent to his phone. Little did Piggy Two know, they also, as a precautionary, notify the police after any alarms go off for a certain period of time. So, imagine to Piggy Two's surprise, when, not only does he catch Jack pill-stuffed to the brim of his pockets like a cartoon would be, but as he's chasing around this now obviously high-as-fuck asshole in his home, spilling drugs everywhere, the cops bust in, guns drawn, ready to be the lawmen they always knew they could be. Timing, I think it's called. So Piggy Two is doing a cool ten upstate now, but that slippery fuck Jack had those keen senses only prairie dogs and crackheads have for danger--he got outta dodge right quick, as they falsely arrested Piggy Two for the break-in. Like I said, unfortunate.
But this all led to Piggy Three. I mean, there are, and I'm guessing, at least a hundred different stories I've heard, some would argue, worse than Piggy Three, but I think you're only as good as your last. Piggy Three is why he's dead. I mean, if that's not the worst, or the best depending on your view, then I don't know what is. Piggy Three was just some dude, Jack probably thought. There's no way, me, Jack the Junkie, would ever have enemies. Well, turns out he did. The other goddamn Piggies. They had family, friends who discussed him, at length. Being the...entrepreneurial family as they were, they also had connections, resources. It was only a matter of time and opportunity. Pay-off some low-level street soldier, (Piggy Three, as it turned out), across different third parties, and boom, like Jack's chest went from the kick of that shotty, it's open season. He was high, nodding out in an alleyway, when they picked him up. A group of dudes including Piggy Three, the youngest of the Three Piggies, drove him out to a secluded area outside town, put a gun to him, and then burned his body after, 1-2-3 combo, no fan-fare, no nothing, just getting it done. Again, this is what I heard, anyway. He didn't ruin anyone's house that time, but in a way, he had. The name, the family. The oldest, strongest house of them all, built brick by brick through the generations. The Piggies were...connected, man. And well. Jack the Junkie was persistent, sure, and that can be lauded, but the dude was a fucking idiot, to the end. That, there is no doubt. He was junkie; I mean, what do you expect? I went to Highschool with the guy, grew up with him for chrissakes, so I know. I know about being a dumb beast, doing the same shit over and over again, even though you know the outcome is gonna be the same, until that one day it's not. You know? That dogging madness, that shit under the skin. They just gotta chuck that shit. Immediately. 'Cause if you don't, then all you'll get are echoes, man. The same day in, the same day out. Waves eaten by the sand; there's no distinction, not contour in that shit. But that was Jack. Always had been. I don't know, I'm not sorry he's gone. Not really. The dude was an addled troll, who deserved to be under a bridge somewhere. Still. He makes for good stories, gotta give him that. And, if you're really paying attention, you can probably find some moral bullshit in there--the sin of pride, gluttony, blah, blah. But, really, I think you just shouldn't ever feed those little fucks after midnight. Know what I mean?