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“Sure. You can have her number. But, if she was tough on me for not having my quote unquote ‘shit together’ she might take issue with the whole ‘smoking crack’ lifestyle that you currently live.” Rick sipped his beverage, enjoying the fact that coffee and not crack cocaine, was his only addiction.
Crackhead Dave got all animated, like a Chuck E Cheese robot starting to perform “Fuck that noise! You don’t tell the wind how to blow. You don’t tell the dealer how to deal. Thunder only happens when it’s raining. Players only love you when they’re playing. And you don’t tell Dave how to crack!”
The room went silent, the way a room should go silent whenever a drug addicted fry cook spouts off some goofy inspirational crackhead meme worthy gibberish. There was something in Dave’s I have a crackhead dream speech that resonated with Rick. Rick always got into relationships with people who constantly told him what he was doing wrong. What he was saying wrong. How he didn’t care about about anyone but himself, even though he was doing whatever he could to please them. He was never good enough in their eyes. And he believed every word they said. He wasn’t good enough. He didn’t deserve them. And he was constantly apologizing for things they did to him or said to him. He would cry alone on the couch as they were passed out in the next room, hating himself. But, when he would be around anyone else, he was liked and treated with respect. Why was that? Was it because those people let him blow like the wind or accept him for his inner crackhead or…
