I'm lying on the couch, nodded out, with a needle still stuck in my arm. There's a small mound of white powder heroin on the coffee table next to me. My six-year-old son is sitting a half inch from the TV, watching porn and drinking a beer.......when the Child Protection worker walks in. I quickly awaken. "Go across the street," I tell her. "There are two kids, parents, out looking for drugs, and they have a baby girl at home who's dying from pneumonia. The baby has no food or blankets......." The woman is aghast and doesn't leave. She considers calling the CPS office to send someone across the street but instead decides that I'm full of shit. I'm not. In the meantime, I pull a handgun out from under the cushion and begin shooting at her wildly, until her bloodied body falls. My effortful work accomplished, I boot another one and nod off again. My son was laughing. "That's just like on TV, Mom!" he said. I roll over on my side and fall asleep.