I'm going to tell you a story. A story of when I was younger, back in the eighties when I was at my High School prime. I walked throughout the Hartford halls dressed in a school uniform, which was required to be worn while attending our school. No one was idiotic enough to look at me different, or say my name for fear of suspicion. They knew who I was, they knew who's son I was. Forgetting their popularity to avoid my stroke of excellence. Perhaps, I was quite too arrogant for the students to put up with, however, I never heard of their complaints or dislikes. They suppressed their feelings about me fearing of what my last name could do to them. It pays being rich, and powerful, I must say. However, I wasn't known to be a bad guy; I was never the one to pick on children just because they were different. I was the one who laughed at the children being picked on by the football jocks, and edge heads. Although we never had a big bully problem, I yearned for the lower class children's downfall from society; lower than that of which they had already been placed by god. Religion was a big topic in our school, a wrong discussion could develop into a child rivalry, or an apocalyptic event after school in the court yard. When I gave my opinions of god, not only did people avoid reacting with violence or criticism, they disregarded the fact I proclaimed I was god. How dare thou call my words sacrilege. How dare they defy my ruling of their presence. They could as well be blinded by the truth, and be unable to see that they already consider me a god. Perhaps, a messiah, or king. The obvious fear in their eyes when I walk past their locker.

About friends; I had plenty during High School. I had my casual clique that I spent my childhood drinking and discussing stocks with on a daily bases. I remember those days, waking up early in the morning before most were awake for work; Making sure I was to be the first to see the Hartford Times in my front yard.

(I chuckle at the reminiscence.)

I remember reading the stocks page hoping to see my points risen since my last notice. Usually, they were a point higher, or they stayed the same which would cause my arrogance to branch off in a gloating stage when I met with my chaps by the school steps around eight, before class started. Good times, I must say.

(All that can be seen is a black area, yet it's not completely black. Almost as if it were a television screen that was idle. That it was; suddenly, a bright orange corporate logo appears in the center of the square. The logo reading "NEWS66" with a blue outline surrounding the bolded letters. A shiny special effect twinkles the surface of the gold set of sixes, as yet another text logo pops up in the top right hand corner reading "LIVE" The blackness merges with that of an actual scene, with a reporter holding a microphone in front of what looks to be a confinement center. As I watch the broadcast with my clique after a normal day at school, snorting is heard from Mark, my right hand man. I've known Mark longer than anyone; Not even Michael, who was also sitting at our table. He looked away from the television to face Mark, who was snorting up tracks of cocaine on my snack table. I showed a face of disgust towards him, but he didn't notice because he was too busy destroying brain cells.)

Danny: Mark, because you are rich, you do not have to take advantage by doing drugs twenty four seven.

(Mark looks up from a trance, as if his powder meant more to him than life itself.)

Mark: Danny, what the fuck are you talking about? I can do whatever the fuck I want because of my dad's authority.

Danny: He's a police officer, and you fail to realize that it is close to home now. I'm quite sick of your constant snorting and sniffing. Let alone your paranoia which your drugs cause. You're up and jumpy for days straight and then you crash, and you crash hard.

Mark: It's not hurtin' anyone man, it's just fun as shit. Here, try some.

(Mark takes the side of his wrist and slides a powder track towards my edge of the table.)

Danny: Get this disgusting substance away from me, and out of my house. Your lust for narcotics has to stop, or it will kill you.

(I attempted to push back the cocaine back to his edge, and he freaked out like I had never seen before. Jumping up from his seat knocking the chair back to the hard kitchen floor. He whipped out a switch blade and pressed it to my throat in a fit of rage.)

Mark: Don't you ever fuckin' tell me what to fuckin' do ever again, man.

(I stared into his fiery eyes which revealed the true meaning of wrath. His paranoia was beginning to overflow, even with his friends. Michael hadn't even noticed his actions, he was too involved with the newscast that was on the television. Michael acted as if this same routine happened once a day on a continuous bases. Mark pulled back his blade, not taking his eyes off me as I sit completely still. I could see the regret indented on Mark's face; his expression wrote a book of sorrow for what he had just did to me. I sensed his weakness, and used it to an advantage to redeem my control.)

Danny: If you ever pull that shit on me again… I'll kill you.

(Mark looked at me, not reacting to my second threat. I called his bluff, and was correct that he didn't have the fortitude to back up his threats. What kind of a friend is this. I learned by his enragement that he could not be trusted to defend me in a battle, if the problem had ever come up. He was too weak for that; All caused from his addiction to cocaine.)

Danny: You're failing to recognize the drug's power over you and your will. You snort it up to get a vibe from it's power, it's impact on your body. It's a game of chance. A game you continue to play until one day, you lose. You fail to realize that you are able to lose this game, and continue to play, unaware of the long term effects. An overdose can happen when you least expect it, and you will not see it coming. So it comes down to you, Mark. Money equals authority, and authority equals, not only arrogance, but also boredom. You become bored with your constant wealth and fortune, that you want higher activities. You want the ultimate in fun, and this activity you consider fun will also be your fate. Your death. I understand most of the United States are now overwhelmed with the capacity of narcotics. The attempt to end this will be futile forever. The resources are too wide across the nation to ever completely stop; no matter how hard the government tries to destroy these substances, someone will always be there selling it to you Mark. That's to assume the government wants to end these substances.

Mark: hmm?

Danny: What? You don't think that our democracy is corrupt? Our government shades the true American dream, other than honest wealth and the respectful workman, we find the American dream through corruption, bribes, dysfunction and perverseness. I wouldn't be surprised if our politicians enthused the progressiveness of drug selling in America. It couldn't be easy to smuggle these "illegal" substances, so our government opens the gates for these drug lords, pushers, etcetera. You know what the reason is? Our country is in so much debt, the money made by accepting these drugs gets us richer, and trashier at the very same time.

Mark: If that were so, wouldn't we just make drugs legal?

Danny: You ask why? A reason is simple. If the public isn't aware of the immense amount of money our country is making, our government avoids paying most taxes from these large sums. They've found a loop hole in this world wide phenomenon.

Mark: Since when were you so political?

Danny: Let me ask you a serious question, Mark.

(Mark awaits my question with a readied stare.)

Danny: Do you believe that our government should stick with the fourth amendment with the right to bare arms with the constant murdering of innocent people every single day? Or would you rather have the government prohibit all guns to avoid most of the death causes in our country?

Mark: From my stand point, I think our country could be better without guns. Our death status would probably decrease some.

Danny: Okay, If that prohibition took control, and not a single American had a gun, our president converted to communism. Our armies would work for him, and would obey his every demand. The United States would look like the middle east, and we could not defend ourselves because we all agreed to prohibit guns.

Mark: I don't think our government would ever go communist…

Danny: Even if not, you're saying that you would strip the guns off of every American so they could not defend themselves against criminals?

Mark: Huh?

Danny: You think criminals get their guns legally? Especially those who have criminal record? You say yes to prohibition and you're making it easier for criminals to kill, rob. The United States would becomes a haven of murderers because no one could defend themselves or their homes.

Mark: What is the point of this then?

Danny: The point is, we cannot win in any scenario. You take guns, you take freedom. However, our freedom may be defended by guns in the future. You can never underestimate the greater powers.

Mark: What does guns have to do with me?

Danny: The moral of this story is that no matter what we do; No matter what we prohibit and ban, there will always be a loop hole. I would say 88% of our country is corrupt. You know what you do by doing drugs? You support our drug lords, our pushers, our criminals. You give them pocket change to bribe their way out of their life sentence because the judge is corrupt. Perhaps nothing in this country can be helped, but we can damn well try it, and you can try it by quitting that disgusting hobby of yours. Drugs are a productive business in this country, and there is not a damn thing anyone can do about it.

I remembered telling him that heart felt speech. And I also remember him listening to my words of wisdom. I never truly understood how he graduated high school, even on his fourth attempt. I'm glad he quit doing drugs, but I'm a little disappointed that he covered up his addictions with alcohol. From a junkie to an alcoholic… you must love the irony. Oh well, better than cocaine. I cannot lie; I, myself, drink quite a lot. Not enough to be an alcoholic, but I do have a fair share of burgundy in my mansion's wine cellar.

Speaking of corruption, my father's company was quite corrupt. In fact, Constarrgo was the first business in Hartford to be busted on a conspiracy charge for smuggling in alcohol during the prohibition back in the day. I wasn't near born yet, and my father's business was owned at that point by my grandfather. After he was killed by one of Al Capone's hired guns, my father's older brother took over the corporation. Luckily, my Uncle was smart enough to fly straight… that was until my father took over.

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