How The Mighty Have Fallen

  What I wouldn't give for even twenty fucking dollars, just enough cash for one good shot of dope. I could go boost some shit. A Dewalt drill would pawn for at least forty bucks, but with a court date for shoplifting fast approaching I'm gun-shy.
 No it looks as if I'll just have to jones hopelessly, praying for some cash to magically appear in my empty wallet. It's all I can do to keep myself in cigarettes.
 Long gone are the days when I had a quarter ounce of dope and a quarter pound of weed in my desk drawer next to a stack of twenty dollar bills as thick as a bible. These days its a half a pack of discount smokes and a small pile of pennies.
 "How the mighty have fallen" I think to myself as I eat a fistful of my grandmothers Vicodin, washed down with a gulp of milk straight from the carton.