Parts of This Story Have Been Dramatized

[hardboiled detective narration]

Meth-heads. They're worse than Illinois Nazis. And twice as ugly.

Oh, sure, our PC society tells us to love these drug-addled losers as one of our own. They're somebody's mother, father, daughter, son, shoe salesperson, and/or oil-change technician. They just stepped on the wrong train one day and ended up in Junkietown. They've lost their way, is all.

Don't let their freakish looks deceive you,
they're beautiful on the inside.

Well, I've lost my way a couple of times. One time I got drunk in the woods and wandered off the trail. Want to know what happened? I got eaten by a fucking bear, that's what. No one offered me a helping hand. I couldn't have accepted it anyway, because my hand was in a goddamn bear's stomach. I had to climb out on my own. It was messy, and that bear probably still has it out for me. But I did it.

So don't talk to me about losing your way. No matter what poison you've injected into your system, it's not as if you've been eaten by a bear.

He's out there. And he's still hungry.

I encountered a meth-head yesterday. She slammed into my niece's car in the parking lot of Rosa's Tortilla Factory. Nice place. Good tortillas. Crowded on Taco Tuesday, so be prepared.

The meth-head ran a stop sign and hit my niece. She had her mother in the car. The meth-head, not my niece. I don't know if that was clear. If my niece's mother had been in the car, I would have said "my sister." I don't know why my sister would have been in the meth-head's car. My sister doesn't do meth. I hope the meth-head's mother doesn't do meth, either. That would be sad. It's bad enough watching your child throw her life down the toilet without pulling the handle and going along for the ride. 

In any event...goddamn meth-head driving her mom around on a Saturday afternoon. It's sweet. Until you smash your car into my niece. Then things get fucked up fast.

Tiger mom has nothing on tiger aunt.

I don't know what meth costs. I don't want to know. I do know how much cigarettes cost, though, because they advertise them at the gas station. People spend six bucks a pack to give themselves emphysema, cancer, and breath like roadkill? And this shit's legal? What a world.

I also know this: The meth-head was smoking a cigarette after the wreck, as if she had just gotten laid instead of causing an accident. Between the meth and the smoke, it seems to me she has enough money to buy goddamn insurance for her car. Or maybe I'm an idiot. In any event, the meth-head was uninsured.

She had a sob story about having to pay for her mom's surgery. I had a sob story, too: Some meth-head bitch just plowed into my niece's car. I was angry. Sorry about your mom, and your various addictions, and losing your way. Those things are tough. I hope you turn your life around, but I hope it's painful. I'm a bad person. But you're worse.

I'm in recovery. It's day to day.

She had a pretty bad attitude for a meth-head. Her mom was right there and all. Maybe she was embarrassed. I think the mom was embarrassed. No one wants their kid to be a meth-head. Or maybe some moms do. The world is full of dicks.

I pulled the car door open and dragged the meth-head out. Yeah, I roughed her up some. It didn't take much; she was like a wad of wet paper towels, physically. Since she wasn't going to pay to fix my niece's car, at least I could shake some satisfaction out of her. It felt good. It felt damn good.

Nah, that part didn't actually happen. 

I said some unkind words. I glared. I took pictures of her license plate in case she decided to drive off before the police arrived. But get physical with someone who clearly has bigger problems than getting beat up by the likes of me?

There's too much karma in the world.

The bear is still out there.

My niece wasn't injured. Her car was banged up, but not too bad; the meth-head's car was worse off. Too bad for her. If she'd had insurance...you know. Maybe the wreck will be a wake-up call.

I doubt it. But far be it from me to judge someone with problems. I've got problems of my own.

Still...goddamn meth-head.

It's a good thing I'm so nice.

[/hardboiled detective narration]