Ozzy (Sick Boy), roaddawgz.org, May 24, 2004
It was a beautiful day. The sun was out, the birds were singing, and there were no worries. The city is Portland in the summer.
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It was the start of a new day and Gollum needed to make some money so he could get well. He sat there counting his change. $4.74. He was halfway there. He could feel his stomach turning and twisting.
Gollum was gutter punx. His mohawk was long and he wore a leather jacket, a black hoodie, some dirty old jeans with chains, and some Doc Martins. His eyes were a deep blue and he stood at 6 feet 3 inches (including mohawk) tall. He had piercings on his lip and his nose.
After another hour and a half of spangeing, he finally got enough money. Now all he had to do was get his fix. So it was off to Burnside, down under some bridge. His trip to the bridge was always the same. He had no patience left; he wanted to be there already. Getting it was just as bad and the size of it was unbelieveably small.
"God dammit," he thought on his way off the bridge. "It just gets smaller and smaller."
The mixing and the fixing are the sketchiest parts of his life. After the needle goes out he sighs with relief. Well at last. He sat there enjoying it, then he stood up and went back to spangeing. This was vigorous work; most everyone just ignored him. Then there were the people that pated their pockets as they turned their heads. Or the people who said, "Sorry, no, do you?" and "get a job." But in between them he would a quarter or a few dollars and thus in two or three hours he had another $10 to get another piece.
The trip to the bridge was the same as the previous one, except on a different level since he wasn't sick. Under the bridge he waited and waited, then finally got the dope and started to head back from the bridge. Halfway there the cops stopped him. Ran his name and searched him. Found his dope. "Ho ho, you're going to jail," the officer said as he slapped the handcuffs on him and threw him in the cop car. They were never nice to him and always rougher than they needed to be. All he could think was, "Fuck, man," as the cop car rolled down the street.
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