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A piece of self indulgent pulp fiction, all drugs sex and violence... well, drugs and violence anyway. On with the show then...


This program is classified R18+

It contains:

Very Coarse Language
Explicit Drug Use
Wanton Disregard For Law And Order
Medium Level Violence
Adult Themes

It is advised that viewers be 18 or over unless accompanied by a parent, guardian or orange-assed baboon.


A short story by Juice Michaels

Juice Michaels, 1968 through 2016

Radio birdman up above, beautiful baby be my love -Iggy Pop, '1970'

A tiny fountain of blood shot up the hypo as the needle hit the mainline, followed closely by that terrible feeling Richards always got just as he pressed down on the plunger and the H eased into his body like an oiled up prick. If he had a habit it might be different, but he didn't and so it just felt weird adding a foreign substance directly into his blood stream.

No different than eating or drinking, Richards thought.

The heroin came on quick, pouring through his body. It started at he back of his neck, a warm burning feeling that quickly spread. Suddenly nothing mattered. Fuck Nepal, Fuck everything, fuck fuck FUCK!!!

-Why the fuck do you do that to yirsel?

-Wha... Baby, you have to understa tha when it hurt you gotta get it fix...

Richards trailed off; his vision blurred and then went black.

When he awoke everything was bright, but still blurred. He was wet, he couldn't breathe!

-What thei fuck!

Someone was slapping the shit out of him, drowning him.

-C**t! Richards screamed, waving one hand at his attacker and reaching for the .22 with the other.


Three shots straight up at the ceiling.

Someone was screaming, his vision was coming back together. Two blurred images of a bathroom came together to form a single clear one.

-Junky fucker! What the fuck are you doin??

Richards was still wet, he seemed to be lying in a shower stall of some kind. Water was pouring down on him.

-Whae the fuck! What are you doing!

More screaming, Richards didn't catch most of it. Suddenly he was being attacked again, even more screaming.


The figure fell backwards, away from Richards. There was a large pistol in his hand, but he didn't remember it being there before. Where was the .22? Who was on the floor?

Richards felt consciousness slipping away from him again. Blackness again.


Richards regained consciousness for the second time that day. Day? Was it day or night? It seemed to be light out; a shaft of sunshine was streaming in through the window above him. He leaned heavily back against the tiles of the shower and tried to pull himself up. There were streaks of blood on the walls, signs of a struggle and a gun in the water next to him.

On closer inspection Richards noticed that the whole room was flooded, water was still pouring down on him. He managed to get up, with the help of the brass pipe that led up the wall to the showerhead.

It seemed to Richards that the room was flooded because he had been lying over the drain hole, causing the water to build up and spill over the small barrier that was meant to stop it. The water in the shower was clear, but the water that had spilled over into the bathroom was a light shade of red.

The door suddenly burst open and the figure of a girl slipped in.

-You smarmy c**t!

-What the fuck do you mean Isabelle? Richards drawled.

-You fuckin' shot me is what I mean. The girl replied, holding up her arm, which was indeed bandaged up with blood soaked fabric. -I was fuckin' keepin? you alive, fuckin' smack heid. ODin' on the fuckin' host is bad fuckin' form ya c**t!

-Bullshit! Wha the fuck is this? Have you made a deal?

-Stop talking shit Richards, this is serious! You fucking shot me while I was fuckin' trying to stop you swallowin' your own fuckin' tongue! She stood up and waved her injured hand around some more to emphasize the point. -An' you fuckin' flooded my fuckin' bathroom!

-Shit, how bad is it? Richards said, walking over to her.

-Donna fuckin' come near me c**t! You fuck! You did this you pig!

-OK calm the fuck down Issy, it's just fucking scratch.

-You fuckin' shot me you fuck! Scratch! I should fuckin' kill you, you c**t!

She stormed out and Richards picked up the pistol in the shower. It was a fucking big gun by anyone's standards, Richards was starting to regret taking it back at the house. He emptied the clip and pocketed the remaining bullets, placing the gun carefully back down in the shower. He left the room with the water still running.

-Isabelle, I'm sorry. Here, have a taste of this; it'll kill the pain.

He produced a bag full of brown smack. Afghani shit, the best money could buy. But Isabelle didn't seem into it.

-I don't have any works in the house?

-Youse mairn. It's the least I can offer after shooting you. He smiled.

-I don't share needles Richey c**t.

-So you're just gonna walk around like that are you? It's miles to the nearest hospital.

-I'm not going to no fuckin' hospital!

-Then you'll be needing something for the pain, and I have it right here. If you did go into the hospital they'd give you the same thing.

-Fine, but I've nevir shot junk before.

Richards disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a spoon, candle and a bowl full of water.

-At least get the bullet out.

-Went clean through, still only a flesh wound but.

-Fine then.

A small amount of the powder went into the spoon, then the needle was filled and emptied and filled again with water. Richards started to speak again as he transferred a small amount of the water from the needle and into the spoon.

-Any coke?

-Yeah. Isabelle left and then returned with a small pill bag.


-Why not?

Richards lit the candle and held the spoon over the flame. The water bubbled and the heroin dissolved, he sprinkled a pinch of coke over the solution, which disappeared into the hot, yellow liquid on contact. Richards put the prick of the needle into the spoon and pulled the plunger up, careful not to lose a drop of the precious drug.

-Got a belt?


Richards put the hypo down on the table, stood up and removed his own.

-Here, wrap this around your arm.

He passed the belt over to Isabelle, she put it around her wrist and Richards had to correct her positioning, moving it up to her bicep and tightening it so the blood flow was constricted. He let his fingers run across her exposed arm, down to her hand that had started to shake gently.

-I'll do it. He said, picking up the hypodermic and examining the point.

Cardboard collar around the hypo, he tapped her wrist until a nice fat, purple vein surfaced. He jabbed in on an angle, to avoid potentially deadly air bubbles going unnoticed. A stream of blood told him he had hit the first time, he pushed down on the tap and Isabelle threw her head back and slid down slightly in her seat.

All the while bloody water was sweeping under the door and into the carpet...

The commission for juicey short stories thanks you for your time. And would also like to thank those who took part in the "Joint Effort" thread in Friendly Fire Forums v1, whilst no text has been plagiarized, this story was developed there by the author as part of a longer, multi-author story. The commission would also like to thank Rommel, MIA since 2003, presumed married or dead...

In which case R I P
20 views and not even one post?

Can't be that bad can it?
There's more to this story, written by other people? Interesting... I did something like that with some friends of mine a while back. Is there anywhere I could read the other parts of the story, or is that gone along with the old forums?
Nah it's still there, I'll go dig it up, stay here and refresh this page!...

Or not... tongue.gif

Gimme a minute..

EDIT: The Joint Effort Story!!!
Thanks! Oh, and I'm downloading an FTP program as we speak, by the way...
Dreams On Hiatus
Hmm. Not bad, but the dialogue was a tad confusing.
That's what you get when more then say two people write a story. We should do it here sometime, but I think I'm too stoned to contribute tonight, so I hope no one starts one now (hint smile.gif ), it's more fun when you're at it from the start...
I'd love to do something like that, but I'm too exhausted to do anything right now. Maybe sometime this weekend, or next week then? I don't know...
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