Reports to my social worker

Hope you didn't mind me letting my doctor know you are my social worker, he's 42, from Grafton, tall and gangly, nerdy, with two degrees, first in engineering, an interest in Mental Health, I bet he takes stimulants too, I wanted to ask, in his bio on the clinic's website, said he was a Triathlete, and he does all the groundwork for Dr. Crank, this old fart, who is taking a month off and will 'read everything on that file you sent to us.' On that note, I said, seemed like a good enough invitation to impose myself, in the nicest, polite way, not the way I respond to government officials or insurance agents. 

See, Jack, we wear different masks, but in my case, on that day, at least, a baseball cap, the baseball, lightweight titanium was in the car, just good to have access to it, you never know what could go down, and I'd like to add a dedication of you in my new book, How Coffs Harbour Fucked Me Over. He declined.

'Great to see you reaching out, he said to me, when I first saw him, fishing for some stimulants, saying it was  too risky with street drugs. Doctors love nothing better than a consumer looking for a better deal. And boy, the legal stuff aint half bad.

'And that cock sucker,' I said, showing him my recent artwork of my psychiatrist,' fucking booted me out of his clinic.' 

 

Dr. Sieman seems to be reveling in my revelations. It's an interview to see Dr. Crank, who is the only doctor in God's Country who can prescribe stimulants. 

But to this, declining a dedication. What the FUCK!!!. And I don't have anger issues, yet. Trust me, I was off my fucking head and he reluctantly prescribed me Duromine, 40 mg, god he felt for me, I was being so transparent in trashing my psychiatrist. Such acts of public display are considered a sport in this part of the world, and being from Woolgoola, another coastal town that boasts better beaches, bigger Industrial areas, and a more vibrant cafe scene than Coffs Harbour, slagging off anyone, not from their town is always a good sport.  

 

 

So today I picked up my one pill. I delayed picking it up by two days, looks good, that I'm not desperate. But I wasn't thinking and handed the chemist a piece of paper with a list of drugs I was taking, lies, I tell you, swines. 

She asked me all these dumb questions like was I taking Vyvanse and Duromine, at the same time. Oh fuck, better get out and annoy NSW Services about anything, the staff there are all hot, flirt and love hearing stream-of-consciousness stories of roadside debauchery, particularly fucking over the Highway Patrol, who we all know are pussies, rarely roaming the single road back roads where only sheep, cattle and crazy mothers fuckers speeding over 200 km who just love testing their driving skills on those kinds of unpatrolled roads, where the pigs can't hide behind rest stop or trucks,  or get you with their scanners on the opposite side of the road. 

They think they are doing real work, I told the staff, who was processing my new license, I actually got preferential treatment from this chubby lady, cute face, who I saw at the Orgy Fest at 209 last week. That was confirmed by the cleaner, who said all kinds of sexual deprivation goes on there.

 I've just wired her $200 bucks, as I said today, on the phone. It wasn't for fuel, or anything, as she was booted out and had to rent a car, and her X, a violent fucker with multiple restraining orders but 'anger management classes and lithium have curtailed those tendencies,' says Christie, the housekeeper. As I said over our 'touch base' call today,  I wired her money for 'dirt' on 209, where I was booted out last week, a hard act to follow, I've been told Christie, the housekeeper.

 Usually, the only exit out of that place is in a body bag or a paddy wagon. Anyways, Christie says Mr. Spiritual, the roley poley part-owner from Ipswitch, was there, and the manager of Services NSW, who is organizing a photo ID for me, 'which is used for I.D in NSW,' she confirms, adds in shock-and-horror, 'oh, that asshole who carries wads of cash secured in an elastic bansd,' yep, I nodded, then she laughs, and whispers, 'that doggy fucker who runs the halfway house with his one-inch cock.'

 Yep, that dodgy fuck with a one-inch cock who loves doing doggy with his one-inch cock.' She said to hold onto the full WA license and she'd dispose of it when I got my NSW license. She had already disposed of my Learners, thinking it was a full license. God bless her. And I didn't bother telling her I had one more license coming in the mail, with the new name change. She was under the pump, and I really felt for her, and taking up more of her precious time, just wasn't fair.

I was done for shitting in the shower, and spreading malicious gossip that the owner, Mr. Spiritual, was a cunt. 

'Oh,' says Christie, who called me up thanking me for the cash, 'my eight-month Staffie tore the shit out of the hotel bedding and tore up a few other pets.' Oh, I always loved Coco, I said and advised her not to leave her weed lying around.

And what did they get you for?

' Shooting up rat poison.'

 I knew she wasn't on the gear, I told the manager. It was only rat poison. He wasn't convinced. 

'Then why was she frothing at the mouth?'

He was convinced. 

'Well what about the dirty syringes?'

A set up by the towing man who fucked the cleaner, who confirmed that by saying he had a two-inch dick, 'one fucking inch longer than Mr. Spiritual, she told me on the phone today. 

I just don't get it, I bitched to her, 'they booted me out because I ask too many questions.' 

Luckily the undertaker was on a run to the Gold Coast,  with freshly laundered money from the same hotel I was booted out of, one of seven the dodgy fuck owns.

'Yeah,' says my informant, 'they left you alone when they discovered that you are snitching for Crime Stoppers.' 

Nothing like an insurance policy, I explained and wished her a safe trip.

Keep on playing man, just subliminally drop clues to the crowd about who Jack Harlon is really based on, 'my fucking role model, the nexus between here and nowhere.' Feels like it too. Hope you like my new artwork, it's a dedication to the shrink, who I'm currently fucking over, slagging him off to his colleagues also in the Mental Health industry.

Fucking great gig that, says my social worker.

I bet, I replied, explaining that I have  Cert IV in three illnesses and was aiming to get Autism added to my list very soon, if  
Dr. Sieman decides to catch the ball I throw at him.

So I went back to get my one pill, 40 mg. And the interrogation began, call the fucking doctor but don't you know, I said, that this script was prescribed by a doctor, 'so you better check it for forgery.' Another man, so sorry, not an interrogation, 'just want to monitor you and see how you go with the medication.' It goes well with Japanese porn, and very well with another 40 mg of Vyvanse. Any porn looks good at that stage. 

'They are similar medications,' he says, enlightening me. Hmmm, calls the good  
Dr. Sieman  who has an interest in Mental Health and a predisposition to wearing women's lingerie underneath his office clobber, 'the same one he wore at Grafton Grammar', he told me,  bitching about how he hasn't grown an inch since Junior high. 'But I do  wash the shirt for the following day.' The poor bastard is on trainee rates and every time I visit him, I have to fill out a Customer satisfaction form. 

But I questioned if he washed his work slacks every day, 'I don't', just as I figured. 

'Is that liquid paper or cum stains', I wanted to ask.

 Cum stains, a no-brainer, I mumbled. He quickly updated my notes, adding Aspergers to his own diagnosis of Bipolar for Dr. Crank  to review next month. 

 

Dr. Sieman  gave the thumbs up. I wasn't on Vyvanse. And nor was I on Duromine. He even did a search on SafeScriptNSW, a database only professionals, from chemists to doctors, who can search it without your consent, if they suspect you are a junkie and shopping around for some high-grade pharmaceuticals that never gets cut and always give you the fucking high that you'd only expect from the likes of Takeda Pharmaceuticals in the US.  

The good doctor searched, but none of the three variations of my name yielded a result.

 Nadar, enchilada, god bless, another loophole to explore, I thought, as I went back up the road to flirt with the NSW Services. 'Yes, the Doctor has agreed.' I had just dropped off a urine sample for the chlamydia and the clap, and I think I pushed the swap too deep down my urethra and started groping, to see if there was any major structural damage down there. Which reminded me, that the good  
Dr. Sieman forget to put down Cialis as another medication I was on. I think he forgot. '

Got my money's worth today,' I told reception, as I paid up. I'm seeing him next week and gosh I have a biggie to ask him. I might spoon-feed him some background so he can get me out of his observation room earlier...a 'Duromine and Vyvanse are similar,' the male chemist told me, as he was preparing the one pill. 

What, I said. I was listening to some Coronita Minimal Tech which I wanted to tell the chemist, 'sounds even better when you abuse stimulants like the one you are about to prescribe me.' Oh, I eventually said, 'I thought Duromine was for weight loss and Vyvanse for ADHD.' And that Duromine was a backline drug for ADHD and cocaine the preferred choice of Muscos, who by the time they passed the gear down the line, the back line crew got fuck all. God, they are always moaning about that, get in the front line, I'd tell them, like my mate Jack Harlem who isn't stupid like you dumb fucks. Ouch, they'd say and snort some prescription drugs. And not a poor substitute, I'd tell them because that gear I just sold those wankers on stage wasn't even cut. It was pure Johnson Baby Powder. 

I guess I had been fooled. I thought they were different, in the sense that one got me more fucked up than the other if I took more of one, than the other. But it's afternoon now, shall I still take the pill, I said. 'Have you taken anything today,' to that I said, 'nothing sir?' 

The condition of getting the script, of one pill released each day was that I wasn't making cocktails from the two, adding fruit and other additives like No-Doz. He did a search on SafeScript, too, but I knew I was clean. I've only purchased four packets in the last two months, I really wanted to tell him. Instead, I said I might be back tomorrow.