![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveMy proper response to Hope’s ‘Seven Less One’ Challenge.
Smallville
When I Was Born for the Seventh Time
Utensils required for cooking up:
-Spoon. Cleanliness optional. *Extras* will get burned off anyway.
-Lighter. Available for sixty-cents at the liquor store or three for a dollar at the Laundromat on the corner. Buying in bulk saves time.
-Tying-off device, preferably a belt or a long strip of rubber. Anything that can be adjusted by using teeth. Do not forget to remove said device lest it cut off circulation to the rest of the body, and you have to get a limb amputated.
-Needle. Cleanliness of which *is* a concern. Do not share needles with anyone. No matter how good their shit.
-Cotton. Required. Should not be recycled.
-Additive. Citric acid or Vitamin C. Do NOT use vinegar. It will cause blindness.
-Heroin. Not optional.
Lex normally doesn’t make lists.
Sometimes there are exceptions.
This particular list is written on the kitchen table in permanent marker.
This isn’t Lex’s apartment.
*
People always call marijuana the Gateway Drug, but Lex never believed that. Marijuana never led him anywhere except to the commissary to buy junk food, and he was doing E long before he invested in a dime bag. Besides none of that had anything to do with Shrooms or acid.
One does not necessarily follow the other.
Trying to find a pattern in drugs is like spending too much time looking at those 3-D puzzles. It’s all pointless anyway. Heroin, however, has a point. A very nice one.
In the beginning Lex would Chase the Dragon, but it got old real fast.
Shooting up though. That’s different.
*
Left-handed people shoot into their right arm.
Lex is left-handed. He shoots into his right arm, at least until the vein collapses, and he’s required to learn how to shoot into his left arm. He might try out the veins in his chest next or the ones in his fingertips. Just to see.
Lex is not going to shoot between his toes. He hates his toes; they’re too long. He is not going to shoot into his thigh either, that’s far too secretive for him.
Luthors are always proud of everything they do, and Lex has always liked his left arm. He has to work his right arm twice as hard simply because it doesn’t get as much use, and only ten percent of the world’s population is left-handed. Yet left-handers are more prone to addiction than anyone else.
They’re also more likely to commit suicide.
It would figure.
Napoleon was left-handed, as was Marilyn Monroe.
Alexander was left-handed, and it explains a lot.
Left-handed people are special.
Lex’s dealer is left-handed as well.
*
Heroin ranges in color from beige to brown.
The rarest is white.
Most people can’t get China White anymore.
Lex is not most people.
*
The needle slides in so easily that it’s like the proverbial warm knife through butter. Or an oar through water.
It’s three o’clock in the morning and Men’s Rowing is on ESPN2.
So far Lex has watched bowling, the Canadian Ironman Triathlon, college football practices and skeet shooting. He needs to change the channel, but he can’t find the remote. Correction: he can’t bring himself to move to look for it, and when he scratches at his nose the skin flakes.
Lex’s skin is dry. He’s dehydrated. He hasn’t eaten in forever. He hasn’t drunk anything, apart from whatever is in Marcus’ refrigerator, in days. He’s not sure how many days have passed since he broke in.
Marcus isn’t his dealer.
Marcus is his friend, lover, pusher, shoot-up buddy, except that Lex doesn’t have friends so Marcus isn’t really anything.
Marcus is dead.
He died four weeks ago.
Lex should know. He was there.
*
He opens the window to the fire escape before shooting up at the kitchen table.
He has no idea why.
The sun is shining, but Lex doesn’t know what day it is. He doesn’t really care.
There are birds chirping somewhere, they must be happy about something. Lex wishes he could be like that, but as he pulls the belt tighter he knows that soon he will be.
Soon nothing else will matter.
*
There is no reason for Lex to be on this binge.
Richer than Satan, infinitely hotter than Bill Gates, he’s got it all. He just doesn’t happen to want any of it right now.
Sometimes he hates his life.
*
Lex did not kill anybody for a hit.
He should call Phalen and tell him that.
*
Heroin makes people constipated.
Lex hasn’t taken a shit in days.
He hasn’t taken a piss in days either.
Dehydration plus constipation. It’s worrisome.
Lex isn’t worried at all.
Someone has probably stolen his car given the neighborhood, but maybe not. He’s not sure where he left it. He may not have even parked it. He doesn’t know where the keys are anyway, and he may have left the Porsche running in the street. Double parked. Still, it’s not as though he’s planning on going somewhere now, and he’s always hated orange shag carpeting.
Marcus’s apartment has it wall-to-wall.
Oh well.
Lex just needs another hit.
That’s all that counts.
*
Spoon in one hand, lighter in the other.
The smell is acidic and the bubbles are turning brown.
This is good. He can load the gun.
Needle, cotton, and teeth holding the cheap imitation leather so that his veins jump to attention.
Lex’s teeth almost cut through the belt though, and it throws him off.
He’s impatient, and shooting-up is a process.
Sometimes it takes too long.
The needle is warm in the crook of his arm, left over exposure to the heated spoon; and the way it slides in is like fucking with lubrication. Beautiful. Seamless.
There’s blood in the chamber now, and Lex quietly murmurs his final rites.
He cocks the trigger, and the heroin fires like a bullet gliding through skin and bone.
Every time Lex dies he gets to visit his mother.
*
There is something cold against the back of Lex’s head.
His eyes flutter open, and a hummingbird is flittering near a bush of azaleas. The cold is a park bench, not a gun, and Lex is in front of a caged enclosure.
Nothing makes sense.
The belt is still around his left arm, and when Lex walks towards the cage there’s a white Bengal tiger pacing back and forth about fifty feet away.
Getting high always makes Lex think too much, but he’s not sure how he got to the zoo.
Perhaps if he sits down everything will become clearer.
*
Lex wakes up in a sterile hospital room and the sun is shining through cheap, plastic blinds.
He’s not dead.
Typical.
His father isn’t there either.
Also, typical.
There is a note resting on his lap with a date that means nothing.
Not quite so typical.
Betty Ford means something though.
So do the words ‘Smallville.’
-finis-
Notes: This PSA is brought to you by Irvine Welsh. Do not put tampons in tomato soup. Also, do not do heroin. Seriously.
Title courtesy of Cornershop.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ethrosdemon for beta duty.
Smallville
When I Was Born for the Seventh Time
Utensils required for cooking up:
-Spoon. Cleanliness optional. *Extras* will get burned off anyway.
-Lighter. Available for sixty-cents at the liquor store or three for a dollar at the Laundromat on the corner. Buying in bulk saves time.
-Tying-off device, preferably a belt or a long strip of rubber. Anything that can be adjusted by using teeth. Do not forget to remove said device lest it cut off circulation to the rest of the body, and you have to get a limb amputated.
-Needle. Cleanliness of which *is* a concern. Do not share needles with anyone. No matter how good their shit.
-Cotton. Required. Should not be recycled.
-Additive. Citric acid or Vitamin C. Do NOT use vinegar. It will cause blindness.
-Heroin. Not optional.
Lex normally doesn’t make lists.
Sometimes there are exceptions.
This particular list is written on the kitchen table in permanent marker.
This isn’t Lex’s apartment.
*
People always call marijuana the Gateway Drug, but Lex never believed that. Marijuana never led him anywhere except to the commissary to buy junk food, and he was doing E long before he invested in a dime bag. Besides none of that had anything to do with Shrooms or acid.
One does not necessarily follow the other.
Trying to find a pattern in drugs is like spending too much time looking at those 3-D puzzles. It’s all pointless anyway. Heroin, however, has a point. A very nice one.
In the beginning Lex would Chase the Dragon, but it got old real fast.
Shooting up though. That’s different.
*
Left-handed people shoot into their right arm.
Lex is left-handed. He shoots into his right arm, at least until the vein collapses, and he’s required to learn how to shoot into his left arm. He might try out the veins in his chest next or the ones in his fingertips. Just to see.
Lex is not going to shoot between his toes. He hates his toes; they’re too long. He is not going to shoot into his thigh either, that’s far too secretive for him.
Luthors are always proud of everything they do, and Lex has always liked his left arm. He has to work his right arm twice as hard simply because it doesn’t get as much use, and only ten percent of the world’s population is left-handed. Yet left-handers are more prone to addiction than anyone else.
They’re also more likely to commit suicide.
It would figure.
Napoleon was left-handed, as was Marilyn Monroe.
Alexander was left-handed, and it explains a lot.
Left-handed people are special.
Lex’s dealer is left-handed as well.
*
Heroin ranges in color from beige to brown.
The rarest is white.
Most people can’t get China White anymore.
Lex is not most people.
*
The needle slides in so easily that it’s like the proverbial warm knife through butter. Or an oar through water.
It’s three o’clock in the morning and Men’s Rowing is on ESPN2.
So far Lex has watched bowling, the Canadian Ironman Triathlon, college football practices and skeet shooting. He needs to change the channel, but he can’t find the remote. Correction: he can’t bring himself to move to look for it, and when he scratches at his nose the skin flakes.
Lex’s skin is dry. He’s dehydrated. He hasn’t eaten in forever. He hasn’t drunk anything, apart from whatever is in Marcus’ refrigerator, in days. He’s not sure how many days have passed since he broke in.
Marcus isn’t his dealer.
Marcus is his friend, lover, pusher, shoot-up buddy, except that Lex doesn’t have friends so Marcus isn’t really anything.
Marcus is dead.
He died four weeks ago.
Lex should know. He was there.
*
He opens the window to the fire escape before shooting up at the kitchen table.
He has no idea why.
The sun is shining, but Lex doesn’t know what day it is. He doesn’t really care.
There are birds chirping somewhere, they must be happy about something. Lex wishes he could be like that, but as he pulls the belt tighter he knows that soon he will be.
Soon nothing else will matter.
*
There is no reason for Lex to be on this binge.
Richer than Satan, infinitely hotter than Bill Gates, he’s got it all. He just doesn’t happen to want any of it right now.
Sometimes he hates his life.
*
Lex did not kill anybody for a hit.
He should call Phalen and tell him that.
*
Heroin makes people constipated.
Lex hasn’t taken a shit in days.
He hasn’t taken a piss in days either.
Dehydration plus constipation. It’s worrisome.
Lex isn’t worried at all.
Someone has probably stolen his car given the neighborhood, but maybe not. He’s not sure where he left it. He may not have even parked it. He doesn’t know where the keys are anyway, and he may have left the Porsche running in the street. Double parked. Still, it’s not as though he’s planning on going somewhere now, and he’s always hated orange shag carpeting.
Marcus’s apartment has it wall-to-wall.
Oh well.
Lex just needs another hit.
That’s all that counts.
*
Spoon in one hand, lighter in the other.
The smell is acidic and the bubbles are turning brown.
This is good. He can load the gun.
Needle, cotton, and teeth holding the cheap imitation leather so that his veins jump to attention.
Lex’s teeth almost cut through the belt though, and it throws him off.
He’s impatient, and shooting-up is a process.
Sometimes it takes too long.
The needle is warm in the crook of his arm, left over exposure to the heated spoon; and the way it slides in is like fucking with lubrication. Beautiful. Seamless.
There’s blood in the chamber now, and Lex quietly murmurs his final rites.
He cocks the trigger, and the heroin fires like a bullet gliding through skin and bone.
Every time Lex dies he gets to visit his mother.
*
There is something cold against the back of Lex’s head.
His eyes flutter open, and a hummingbird is flittering near a bush of azaleas. The cold is a park bench, not a gun, and Lex is in front of a caged enclosure.
Nothing makes sense.
The belt is still around his left arm, and when Lex walks towards the cage there’s a white Bengal tiger pacing back and forth about fifty feet away.
Getting high always makes Lex think too much, but he’s not sure how he got to the zoo.
Perhaps if he sits down everything will become clearer.
*
Lex wakes up in a sterile hospital room and the sun is shining through cheap, plastic blinds.
He’s not dead.
Typical.
His father isn’t there either.
Also, typical.
There is a note resting on his lap with a date that means nothing.
Not quite so typical.
Betty Ford means something though.
So do the words ‘Smallville.’
-finis-
Notes: This PSA is brought to you by Irvine Welsh. Do not put tampons in tomato soup. Also, do not do heroin. Seriously.
Title courtesy of Cornershop.
Thanks to
ethrosdemon for beta duty.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 12:33 pm (UTC)Also? The zoo seems to be a popular theme today. I just finished a slightly more wholesome piece with a zoo involved. Heh.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:02 pm (UTC)You did? Like it I mean. I swore that nobody was going to read this because it's so fucked up. Personally, I love it, but I like lots of things (that's a common catchphrase among my mates). I'm babbling. I'm glad you liked it, Slod. I shall go and read your happy-zoo fic now.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 12:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:04 pm (UTC)::eyes warily:: You're just saying that. I know the truth, everybody thinks I'm even more cracked now than even...which is actually true. That's okay, you can tell me porky pies I don't mind! *g* Seriously though, if you enjoyed this at all that makes me veddy happy. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 06:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 01:04 pm (UTC)The needle is warm in the crook of his arm, left over exposure to the heated spoon; and the way it slides in is like fucking with lubrication. Beautiful.
There’s blood in the chamber now, and Lex is about to fly.
He cocks the trigger, and the heroin fires like a bullet gliding through skin and bone.
Every time Lex dies he gets to visit his mother.
I'm in awe.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:05 pm (UTC)::nods head:: Yes, it's very disturbing, isn't it? I still can't believe that anybody read it. I figured that first paragraph would send people away in droves. I'm kinda shocked.
Re:
Date: 2003-03-11 03:37 pm (UTC)I don't care what they say, I pronounce this cannon and will think of it everytime he hurts and another little part of him dies.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 01:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:06 pm (UTC)Don't worry too much. The beautiful thing about Lex is that he's a survivor.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 01:25 pm (UTC)That line is fantastic.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:07 pm (UTC)That line is fantastic.
Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:10 pm (UTC)::pets:: it's okay. pain is good.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 02:52 pm (UTC)So very true.
A painfully good story.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:13 pm (UTC)Thank you. I'm glad you thought so.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 03:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 04:16 pm (UTC)Yes, I am bringing the pain today. This makes me feel... powerful, is that wrong? Oh well, glad you liked it all the same.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 04:45 pm (UTC)Interesting take on Lex, for certain. Do you have an age frame for this, if you put it in SV canon? Is he 16 or 20?
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 05:25 pm (UTC)Interesting take on Lex, for certain. Do you have an age frame for this, if you put it in SV canon? Is he 16 or 20?
Time frame is right before he comes to Smallville. About three to five months. As for the ending, I'm sorry you found it a bit confusing. The idea is that he passes out in the zoo and winds up in hospital, but as for how he got to the zoo, well, on occasion there's a zone between a good ride and od'ing, and perhaps lex went there. Perhaps he hitched a ride on the back of a lorry? *g*
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 10:27 am (UTC)Disturbing! Painful! Yes! Finally! Is it wrong that this brings me a profound sense of glee? Oh well.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 06:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 10:28 am (UTC)I am doing the happy dance you know, very very happy about the proliferation of pain today. I can't help it, it's always nice to convey something a bit different, you know?
no subject
Date: 2003-03-11 06:32 pm (UTC)Just... wow. I don't want to see Lex like this, but you make it very believable.
(Also, I may be a little slow, but which sin were you writing about?)
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 10:30 am (UTC)A little bit of almost all of them. Sloth, greed and gluttony most obviously in his incessant shooting up and lying about the house. Pride at the way Luthors tend to defy everything. There was even a small bit of envy in relation to the birds chirping out the window.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 06:11 am (UTC)Way to capture the sensations and manic energy perfectly.
I'm a big wuss who can't stand needles, and the way you depicted them gave me goosebumps. (thanks a lot.)
rm
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 10:31 am (UTC)Way to capture the sensations and manic energy perfectly.
Creepy! Painful! Twisted! Oh, happy day. You know when you write a lot of happish stuff, you tend to get real excited over the *other* stuff.
no subject
Date: 2003-03-12 11:45 am (UTC)rm
glad you're happy, everyone else is freaked out. *g*
Wow...
Date: 2003-03-12 06:57 am (UTC)I think I've only responded to one other drug related Lex fic, mainly because I don't particularly condone the idea in general, even if I think it very likely that Lex did in fact do drugs. (With a father/family like his, wouldn't you?)
I like the methodical approach this story took, everything laid out, step by step, from the "shopping list" to waking up in the hospital and discovering he's being sent straight to Hell... er, Smallville. ;-)
Very nicely done. :-)
Re: Wow...
Date: 2003-03-12 10:33 am (UTC)I think I've only responded to one other drug related Lex fic, mainly because I don't particularly condone the idea in general, even if I think it very likely that Lex did in fact do drugs. (With a father/family like his, wouldn't you?)
I like the methodical approach this story took, everything laid out, step by step, from the "shopping list" to waking up in the hospital and discovering he's being sent straight to Hell... er, Smallville. ;-)
Very nicely done. :-)
I'm glad you enjoyed it, despite your reservations. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2003-03-17 01:13 pm (UTC)