Billy had to piss before leaving the bar.
He was approached in the men's room by a seedy looking character.
"Wanna by some blow?"
Billy bought and immediately snorted up a shit load of blow.
"This isn't quite working like it used to" he realized; "I gotta figure out how to get more bang for my buck."
No one noticed or questioned him about it that night, so the next day he went to his local dealer and bought an ounce of the finest Peruivian flake, then went to Walgreens for some syringes, spoons, and lighters.
He flirted briefly with an employee with a hideous handbag and then went home to shoot up.
"They just don't understand" he thought while snorting up some monstrous lines and then injecting himself with more.
"I just gotta be me."
He figured out the perfect thing to say if the band gave him any grief, namely "If Stevie Nicks can keep it together while snorting and / or shooting up millions, so can I. Heck, I don't even have any holes in my nose yet. And if Craven Records doesn't like it, tell them to fuck off and go sign with Def Jam, they're coke-friendly."
He smiled, shook his hand, then thanked and welcomed himself.
"It's just SO tough to be a famous rock star" he thought while his brain zinged and zipped madly along.
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