Journal entry
The Man with the Pig
The first chapter started in the Book of Andy. Not to be confused with the actual first, sequential chapter in the book. The sequence is not linear.
“I’m telling you it’ll work” said Justin as he stood there on his Mongoose, one foot on a pedal and the other on the ground. “We just have to walk in there and do it like it’s true”.
I will admit I did think it was a solid plan, but then again I was 15 and plotting to buy hypodermic needles from the local pharmacy with my buddy, who happened to be a couple years younger than me, so I probably would have also thought hanging into the fucking place Mission Impossible style was a solid plan too. Mission Impossible didn’t exist back then, but the point remains. Just a few days prior The Man with the Pig had shot methamphetamine into my bloodstream for the first time ever, but let me fucking tell you, man, that’s just scratching the surface of the journey I’m going to take you on.
“Dude, no fucking way, he’s not going to sell us needles” I said, because clearly nobody in their right mind would sell a couple teenagers a pack of needles when their intent is to inject drugs, right?! But at this point in my short life I absolutely was going to try it. Especially with my girlfriend just deciding it was a good idea too. “I guess, fuck it, right?” I said as I looked at Rachel, looking for probably admiration or approval. Looking back I imagine I looked in the wrong places for that, but what is a boy to do in a world with grown men shooting meth into their bloodstream?
“Let’s go, we can’t go in there with a bunch of people around”, Justin said as I reached into my backpack pulling out my smokes. Rachel stuck her hand out for one. Her fingernails were always chewed back to nothing, probably the meth, and it was no different then. I clearly remember her that day, she was a fucking wild one. She had her hair up in a high ponytail that day, kind of messy, big t-shirt she took out of her brother’s room most likely. Pretty sure it was a Tupac shirt. She stabbed a kitchen knife through my apartment bedroom door once, from the bedroom side. Thankfully it was the door and not me, only because I slammed the door in the crazy fucker’s face. I did love her though…lol. Rachel stays around for a bit, so maybe we’ll circle back to that sometime. “I don’t know, I say we just go do it. If we do it in front of a bunch of people we’re less likely to seem suspicious.” I said. Rachel and Justin just looked at me like they had just heard me say I murdered someone yesterday. “I just think acting normal works, give Rachel your bike and let’s go do it.”
“No no no, you can’t just go in there now. Like what if they saw us out here” Rachel said nervously. “If they saw three kids out here just hanging out they won’t sell us needles”.
“I’m going in.” I blurted out as I put my backpack on. “We’re already here, let’s go, Justin”. Impulse control is something I never quite mastered. I’m more of an “Alice down the rabbit hole right fucking now and until we have covered enough ground that we no longer know where we started and yesterday wasn’t fucking soon enough, but also like take your time and get it right, just don’t fucking dilly dally about it” type person, ya know? But for some reason there’s always a select few that can reason with me.
“Jason, no, not now. I’m hungry, let’s come back tomorrow.” I heard Rachel say. As I stood there on that corner under that dumb little tree that provided absolutely no shade on that hot, humid mid-August day in the heartland, I looked at the pharmacy, then back to Rachel, skipping Justin’s eyes in the middle. Not for any reason other than my brain locks attention when interested. It’s like pulling aggro from sick DPS but not really meaning to. Laser focused and sharp, but then like everything falls apart at some point because I pull aggro and shit goes haywire. I don’t know, man, but sometimes I think I’m an actual video game character. I’ve lived enough lifetimes to be one, that’s for sure. A wondering, empathetic mind lost in a world full of absolute ignorance, intentional and selective blindness, and genuinely bad people. But like I said, a few could reason with me, and Rachel happened to be one. I didn’t recognize it then. Or I did and I didn’t know what it meant.
“Ok, tomorrow.” I said as I threw my Marlboro menthol on the ground. “Justin, are you coming with us to Ryan’s? We’ll just stay there tonight, I’m not going home, who knows what my fucking mom will say about you guys”.
“Hey, has your fuckin’ mom found Joe in the closet yet? I can’t believe he’s been sleeping in there.” Justin said.
To be continued…
Notes: The Man with the Pig is not finished. It is also likely not the only chapter of this story. Additional writing will be added here when ready. Check back if you want to. - Andy, 08/09/2026