Ad Hoc Shrink

This is Peter’s Story, my friend who killed himself last October. When he was still alive he told me I could print any of his stories/experiences on my blog, which I did when he was still alive (he was too depressed to start his own blog). I am reprinting it here even though it’s not a straight-out shrink story (but he’d seen dozens of them so that makes it still relevant for this blog). You’ll get what I’m talking about by the end. The story is told in his voice …

I broke one of my rules. If I saw the pharmacist make a phonecall, I would leave. For some reason, this time I didn’t. I was getting careless. It was about 3:00 in the morning. I picked up the opiate script – I bought some shaving cream for my dad too – and left.If this were a big city nothing would have happened, they wouldn’t have cared. But this was _________, a little bumblefuck town where police had nothing better to do.

It was total overkill. There were four police cars waiting for me out in the parking lot. Four. It was unreal. They had the front doors open and were crouched behind them with their guns drawn. They were all going, “Drop the bag! Drop the bag and get down! Get down!” All of them were just screaming this. I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t even scared. I mean, it was … interesting.So I drop the bag and I’m crouching down and they still would not stop screaming. I’m like, “Okay, I’m doing it, I’m doing it.” And they keep screaming anyway. I could hear one of them on the CB and I’m like, Who are you talking to? Everybody’s here.

I’d never been arrested for anything before. My dad had to post bail and pick me up. That really sucked, having your dad pick you up from jail at 4:00 in the morning.

A week later I went to a different pharmacy. Man, I got so busted. This was when I was working at the bookstore, in the café section. I went up to pick up my script and the assistant suddenly went, “Hey, I know you! You’re Peter from the bookstore!” And I’m like, no I’m not, I’m Steven. And she’s like, “No, but don’t you work at the bookstore? Don’t you remember? You served me coffee the other day.” And I’m like, no I didn’t … and this kept going on for a while. She would not let this go.

I finally leave and just as I reach the sliding doors, the pharmacist’s voice behind me goes, “We need to talk.”We went to this back office and took seats. I just explained it to him, everything. I needed it, it made me feel right. I didn’t know any way else to get it. He just listened. He said this time he wouldn’t call the police, but if he saw me again trying the same thing he would.Then I left. I was really lucky. If he called the police, I would have gone to jail.