Give Me Novacaine

East 12th Street is never busy at night. Why? That's where the drug dealers of Oakland are. The best shit around, you can get anything for a good price. Why am I here?

I need something, anything, to take this sensation away.

Why would I need something, right? Why would the singer and guitarist of a world famous band need drugs? And what pain do I have to numb?

My wife and kids are dead. Six feet under. Some damn car accident killed them a year ago. What did I do? Planned the funeral, cried for a few days, and then got addicted to Novocaine. It numbed my tongue and throat, so I could drink anything and I'd be fine. Well, not fine. Close to fine, though.

There was a dealer around here that sold the crap. His name's Jimmy. Five hundred bucks for a bottle of the best working Novocaine. Even doctors don't know about it. I bought a bottle every two or so weeks, then I'd go home and take three. I'd drink until I got drunk, and I'd pass out. I was hoping one night my heart would stop. Then I wouldn't have to live through this anymore.

This sensation's overwhelming, it's like a throbbing toothache of the mind.

When I first found Jimmy, I was walking down the road late at night. The only light was showing from the moon and street lights...

"Billie Joe? Billie Joe Armstrong?" I turn around, seeing a guy in a black T-shirt and jeans.

"Who wants to know," I ask. He chuckles.

"Just wonderin', man. No need to freak." He looks down at my bare arms, seeing the dozens of cuts. "Tsk, tsk. Cutting is a sin."

"Yeah, so is dealing drugs, asshole." He laughs crudely.

"How about I give you something to take away that bittersweet migraine, yeah? You'll get that funny feeling you're not used to because of all that pain. What do you say, Mr. Rockstar?" I walk a little closer to him.

"So I start drugs and I'll eventually get busted? Hell no." I turn to walk away, but his voice stops me.

"What you're feeling now... this'll take you to a better place. A place that's better than here. You won't feel a thing." I look around, then turn back to him. I take my wallet out of my pocket. A sickening grin forms on his lips.

I turn down that same familiar alley. That same familiar shadow is there.

"Ah, Billie Joe. Back for more already," Jimmy asks. I pull my worn brown leather wallet out of my back pocket. I don't reply. He brings a white little bottle of the pills out from his trench coat. I hand him five $100 bills. He smirks. "Thank you for your business."

"Mhmm," is all I say. I turn around and walk back down the alley, shoving the bottle into a pocket on the inside of my jacket. I walk back to my house on the other side of town. The walks do me good, they make me healthy. Since I put this shit into my blood, I need something to keep my good health around.

Before I know it I'm walking into my empty house. Everything is still how it was before Adrienne and the kids died. I didn't have the heart to sell any of their stuff. I walk to the refrigerator and pull out a full bottle of Absolut Vodka. Sitting on the couch, I unscrew the top and set it on the coffee table. I take the cap off of the bottle of pills and look over at the TV stand.

There's a picture of me with Adie, Joey, and Jakob.

I look back down at the bottle and pour nine or ten into my palm. I put the bottle of pills on the table and grab the bottle of Vodka. I dump all of the pills into my mouth and swallow them along with a mouthful of the delicious alcohol. Now I wait.

In a matter of minutes, my stomach starts burning. What the fuck is happening? This isn't supposed to happen! I feel something coming up my throat-

I run to the bathroom and lean over the toilet just in time to throw up anything I've eaten in the last day. Something else catches my eye.

"Oh m-my, God," I stutter and hold my stomach as I stare at the blood in the toilet. I stumble out to the kitchen and grab the phone off of the counter. I dial 911 and pass out.

"Everything's gonna be all right, Billie, do you know where you are," someone yells at me. I open my eyes and see at least five men standing above me. They're all in black uniforms.

"No," I cough and close my eyes.

"Come on, stay with us," another one says. It sounds like a chant.

"Jimmy... he said... he said..." I roll over and cough up more blood.

"Get an ambulance," one man screams at another.

"What did Jimmy say, Billie," another man says.

"He said I wouldn't-" I cough up blood again. "He said I wouldn't feel... a thing..."

"Why wouldn't you feel anything?"

"He said it'd take away the pain..."

"What would take away the pain, Billie?!"

"I can't take it-"

"Billie!"

"The..." I stretch my hand towards the white bottle still sitting on the table. One of them walks over and picks it up.

"Novocaine." I cough up more blood.

"Where's the fucking ambulance," the man right above me yells.

"No, don't..." The man looks back at me.

"Don't what?" My stomach lurches and I squeeze my hands against it.

"Don't save me!" I throw up a mouthful of blood and collapse against the floor, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling nothing.