The Dramatist

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Lemsip and Greek yoghurt. That was my daily fare, the Lemsip for a flu I thought I had. Intermittent sniffles were more likely a throwback to the amount of coke I’d done, but I wasn’t admitting that. The yoghurt because I’d read it was good for you-at least I think I had-all those live cultures destroying bacteria. Add a spoon of honey and it’s not half bad. Truth was my stomach was a mess and the bios eased it a bit.

For six months I’d been clean and sober. Though if sobriety is related to sanity, I didn’t qualify. Not a drop of alcohol had crossed my lips in that time. I hadn’t quit coke from any desire to clean up. My dealer got busted and I wasn’t able to find another source. I felt so bad without the booze, I figured to kick the coke, too. You’re on a roll, go for it. The deadly trilogy, booze, coke and nicotine: the years I’d wasted with them. I was still smoking though. I mean, gimme a break, wasn’t I doing pretty damn good? Give or take another block of time, who knew, I’d maybe stop the cigs, too. But the weirdest thing, the down-in-the-crazy-pool most amazing thing…I’d begun going to mass.

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