Thursday, April 28, 2005

My Relapse, Part IV

The zoo late at night is kind of scary. It's dark and full of menacing animal sounds. And Whitney Houston vomiting up pita chips. It's nothing like the zoo I visited when I was kid. Still, I tried to make the best of it.

Bobby Brown's large, gruff cousin met us at the gate. Bobby gave him a fist full of money and we were in. We hit the crocodile tanks first. Even though they were hard to see, Whitney was thrilled. She pointed to a big one lurking in a corner.

"I'm gonna call that croc 'Bull from Night Court,'" she said, "because he looks like Bull from Night Court."

After that we made our way to the monkey cages. Most of them were asleep. One orangutan was awake, though. Pat O'Brien tried to get its attention by tapping on the glass, but it ignored him.

"That monkey know who I am?" Pat O'Brien asked. He seemed confused.

"Probably not," I said.

"What? You're kidding, right?"

"No. He's a monkey. He doesn't know about celebrity interviewers."

Pat O'Brien paused to ponder my answer. Then he shook his head and laughed.

"Ha-ha! Good one, Adamski!" he said. "Almost had me there for a sec."

Before I could convince him that I wasn't joking and that monkeys really had no clue who he was, Bobby Brown tapped our shoulders and led us to an unlit room adjacent to the monkey cages.

"This place is the joint," Bobby Brown said, flicking on the lights to reveal what appeared to be a veterinary examination room.

"What animals are in here?" I asked.

"None," he said. "But that is." He pointed to a large cage that contained bottles of what appeared to be prescription medicine. His large, gruff cousin fumbled with a ring of keys, then unlocked it.

"Showtime!" Bobby Brown said.

"Oh, baby, get me some of that Emu Valium," Whitney Houston said.

"Coming right up, baby."

"We came to the zoo for drugs?" I asked.

"Best shit in the city," Bobby Brown said throwing me a bottle of pink pills. "Otter OxyContin."

"But I don't want any Otter OxyContin," I said.

"Oh, come on, bro, loosen up," Pat O'Brien said, throwing his arm around me. "Think of this as my going away party."

"Your going away party?"

"Yep, bro. I'm gone. Filed my papers today. Bye-bye rehab!"

"Hey, Pat OB," Bobby Brown called over. "What you up for? Some Panda Powder?"

"Nothing for me, thanks," Pat O'Brien replied. "I'm doing Dr. Phil next week. Says he's gonna test my whizz before he pays me my guest fee."

7 Comments:

Blogger Dad22 said...

Well, if in fact this is your last entry, and I hope it's not, it was superb.

7:20 AM  
Blogger Rex Adventure said...

Dear "Adam",
I just want you to know that you are my hero for no other reason than your blog is more addictive than heroin (I would know). Also, I whore out links to your site like it's going out of style. Please don't stop posting!!! Or if you must at least send me some fan mail response. ;)
-Miranda
e-mail: mbaras1@yahoo.com

10:13 AM  
Blogger Random and Odd said...

I can't believe it. I'm actually SAD.

This is worse than when My So-Called Life got cancelled.

kind of.

12:42 PM  
Blogger Megarita said...

Christ. Dr. Phil *would* check whizz, too.

If you're really wrapping this up, well done. Otter Oxycontin all around...

5:19 PM  
Blogger Hoka-shay-honaqut said...

nooooooo....

8:26 PM  
Blogger innommable said...

How can Pat O'Brien leave??? Damn!!!

12:57 AM  
Blogger Steve Westphal said...

This is pretty good stuff. You can contribute articles and info at my site about free drug rehab center
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10:27 PM  

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