A/N: For those of you wondering, I labeled this as both angst and humor because I think it depends on how you look at it. Some may see it as angsty drug-addicted madness, and some may think it's funny.


Roger injected the heroin into his vein. It made him feel so calm, so relaxed, like a wave that will never hit the shore. He felt so... free. However, something occured to Roger on this fine day.

"Getting high without alchohol," He decided, "is like writing a song that will never be heard." He went to the fridge and got himself a bottle of beer. When he drank it, he found himself feeling much better than he ever could. In fact, he felt like... he felt like... he wanted to sing! He jumped on the couch and started dancing.

"My needle and me..." He sang. At that very moment, Collins and Mark walked in. Collins tried as hard as he possibly could to keep from laughing.

"What... the..." He said. Roger continued dancing, oblivious.

"Wait, I see." Mark said, pointing to the syringe on the floor. "Roger's been getting high again." He tried the humiliation technique- it had worked last week. "Oh, Collins," He said loudly, "look at Roger, getting high like a little baby who can't deal with life." Collins knew the drill.

"There's your spazzy little roommate, with his dumb little heroin." He said.

"Well, you know how idiots are with their drugs." Mark said, intentionally accentuating some words. Roger stopped dancing and gave them a Look.

"Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, guys?" He asked, and then proceeded to laugh hysterically. "I'm Gary Co'man!" He wailed. "Mark... you're... you're turning into Kimberly! And Collins is Willis! This is awesome, man!" He wiped some tears from his eyes.

"Roger, drugs are bad for you." Mark said. "See what it's doing? You're hallucinating!"

"Or he's just remembering that night in '87..." Collins mumbled.

"You!" Mark said to the aforementioned anarchist. "Mouth closed! Now!" He turned back to Roger. "Now, you should go to rehab." Roger gave Mark a terrified look.

"Whaddya mean?" He asked. He picked up his needle and started dancing with it.

"It's a cozy sanctuary

But it's far from necessary

'Cause I'm as in control as before

As a simple demonstration

Of my independent station

I will go and leave my Herry on the floor." He chuckled at his pet name for the drug.

"Did he just call his smack Herry?" Collins asked, nudging Mark.

"I think so." Roger cointinued to dance as he walked outside of the loft. "Shit! Roger can't go outside like this!" The musician left the syringe on the floor outside and started to walk back in.

"I'll just walk away and leave it on the floor

Yes, I'll walk..." He puased, wondering if he should go back for Herry. But he had to prove himself to Kimberly and Willis! "Away and..." He began to consider if he should tell them to fuck themselves and go back for the drug. "Leave it... on..." Screw it. Roger needed that needle. He needed it to survive. He let out a scream and went to retrieve it. "Don't ever let me do that again." He whispered to it.

"Roger, I'm going to take the drugs now." Mark said, moving slowly towards Roger.

"Nuh-uh!" Roger screamed, sticking his tongue out. "Or else I'll tell Mister Drummond!"

"Rog-" Mark was interrupted by very loud giggling. He turned to see Collins smoking. He seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit. "Co-o-o-o-ll-i-i-i-ins!" He whined. "You can't smoke while we're trying to convince our friend to stop doing drugs! Especially not pot!"

"Oh, yes, he can!" Roger said, running towards his fellow felon. "Drug Buddies forever!" He screamed.

"Tell the whole building, why dontcha'?!" Mark screamed even louder than Roger. The two gave each other a sly look. "Oh, come on..." Before he could try to reason with them, they were out the door.

"Drug Buddies forever!" They screamed. "Drugs! Drugs! Drugs! We're Drug Buddies forever!"

"They are hopeless cases, Marky." Maureen said, walking in. "Hopeless cases."

"At least they thought they could do it." Mark said, shrugging. But Maureen was already chasing after them.

"Pot, Smack, and LSD galore!" She was screaming.


A/N: I think I was on literary crack writing this.