11 Jun

My brother (almost 18, just graduating from High School) recently had surgery on his soccer-injured shoulder. The kid is a goalie and the tendons in his shoulder got all stretched out and gross and it kept dislocating, so he had to have surgery.

So the surgery was pretty gnarly (hate that word, but have to use it in this instance) and he probably looked something like this

(minus the mullet and nipple ring [I hope])

so the Doctors gave him the good stuff. They gave him Percocet.

Now keep in mind conversations with my brother (we’ll call him Jude for now) go something like this:

Me: “Hey Jude, how’s it goin’?”

Jude: “Pretty good. I’m just tryin’ to chill.”

Me: “Yeah? That’s good…… well, I’m doin’ pretty good. You know, working. I went to this show last weekend. It was so good… you would have loved it!”

Jude: “That’s cool.”

Me: “Yeah. How’s school?”

Jude: “Fine. Just chillin’.”

Me: “Okay…. is Mom there?”

Well, a couple days after his surgery, when he was still taking the Perc every few hours, I talked to him. It was incredibly strange and it really freaked me out because he was clearly high as a damn kite (not that he could help it, but still, he was drugged out like, omg). It didn’t freak me out that he was high, but that he was that high around my parents.

You know what I’m sayin’?? Awwwwwwwwwkward.

OK, anyway, back to the convo I had with my him while he was high. It went something like this:

Me: “Hey Jude! How’s the ol’ shoulder? Are you in pain?”

Jude: “Yeah!! It hurts like a bitch! I have this big ice thing on my shoulder and it’s really uncomfortable. It makes my shoulder all cold. And I have to take Percocet like every three hours. But I take two before I go to bed. But I can’t get into my bed, I have to sleep in Mom and Dad’s bed and they sleep on the couch.”

Me: “WoW. That’s sounds really bad, I can’t believe you can’t get into your bed.”

Jude: “Yeah. And I haven’t taken a crap in five days!!!!!!”

Silence. Silence. Me thinking: is this for real?

Me: “Maybe you should get some metamucel.”

Jude: “Yeah! HAHAHA! But that crap tastes like shit.”

Silence. Silence.

Me: “Ha. Well, when do you think it’s going to be better?”

Jude: “Wellllll, it should be better…. better by…. well, I can’t think right now but it should be better soon.”

Me: “Ok, well. Is Mom there?”

As you can see, this convo had me all freaked. I’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s better, but I’m too afraid to talk to him because I’m afraid he’ll say something more awkward than “I haven’t shat in 3 weeks.” Well, he didn’t exactly say that, but that’s what I heard.


2 Responses to “Percocet.”

  1. merrrrrr June 11, 2007 at 3:57 pm #

    beautiful last illustration. cracked me up.

    i am so jealous of your brother. if i was on percocet i might not care either if i didnt shit. maybe i should start playing soccer.

  2. nicotineandmint June 12, 2007 at 12:54 pm #

    i wanna here about his percocet prom. shiiiiiiit. which i hope he has. by now.

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