Junkie Funeral – Fiction

Junkie Funeral

by Scott G. Burnham

I don’t think it can kill you instantly. I mean, there’s probably at least a few heartbeats before you stop, a few pumps of blood going through your veins before you go. Yeah, there has to be a few pumps before you go, otherwise, how would the junk get carried from wherever you shot up to whatever part it stops?

So a few pumps do happen, yeah, they definitely happen. Now you’ve gotta wonder where the stuff goes. This new blood, thinned with this piss, pumps through your body. But I mean, does it hit all spots at once? Probably just goes to certain parts. Like aspirin. I remember seeing a science special in school that showed how aspirin knows to just travel to a certain part or your brain and cut off the signal of pain, or something like that. You gotta wonder how people prioritize their medications. A lot of stuff other than aspirin travels to a certain part of your brain and cuts off the pain, and there’s a lot of pain that aspirin isn’t made for.

So does junk just hit one spot, or does it go all through you, hitting it all, only really sinking into the receptive parts. Like your brain. I guess that’s the only really receptive part, can’t imagine your arm being to up on the idea of being stabbed.
It’s gotta hit all of your body, I mean, your blood isn’t going to sit there and sort out the smack cells from the other cells, is it? No, bet it just travels around, going through your body, sinking into whatever.

Like your skin. Cuz see, when you prick your skin, for junk, or just a scrape, blood comes out. It isn’t just tossed there by your heart because you got scraped, it’s there all along. It’s gotta be. That’s what keeps your skin warm and alive, because even when you’re outside in the cold, your skin is still warm. So the blood definitely goes into your skin all the time.

So that’s the deal. It’s in the blood, blood’s all through the body, in the skin. I bet, even if all your blood was taken out right after you shot, it would still be in your skin. Because, I mean, it only takes a few seconds for the blood to pump through your heart, to all sorts of places, everywhere in your body, so it’s gotta stick some place. I don’t think you can really piss out the junk. Maybe sweat it out, but then again, that just means that it’s going through your skin, doesn’t it?

So there it is man, in your skin, while you lie there. Don’t worry, the suit hides alot of it, and you look good man, you really do. Look’s like your’re just asleep or something. Never could do much but sleep could you?

But all that H is in there, isn’t it? Built right into your final layer of skin. It looks a little yellow. but you’d have to know to tell. Like knowing a spot is on your shirt so you can see it but no one else can. So don’t worry. No one else can tell. But it’s there. And you ain’t gonna sweat this one out. You can’t really have your blood keep pushing it through. You probably don’t even have any blood left in you there, do you? No, I think they take it all out.

So it’s there in your skin, fucking covering you forever, ’till it all rots and falls off. Jesus, think about it, that stuff will be in the pieces of you that rot off and fall onto the stained silk on your box, and when that stuff goes to whatever rotten skin turns to, those little smack molecules will still be there, still sitting right along with the rest of your skin molecules. Junk to the end, man. It’s on you, fucking trapping you now just like it always did, can’t ever get away from the stuff can you? Nope, can’t ever get away. Can you man? What a fucking joke. All these people are crying and shit, and you’re still smacked up. Hey- look at it this way man- you can take it with you.