A few days clean. More than a few, really. Closer to a week. Legs was on the fritz: completely cut off from all psycho-stimulants. The bud, the rocks, even cigarettes. All he was letting himself have was caffeine. That didn't stop him from trying to find a buzz though.
His day started with 4 cups of coffee and some vitamin B-12 that he stole from the pharmacy at K-Roger's. A spike in energy to say the least, but it didn't compare to what he was used to. He felt a small head rush, a minor high of some sorts. Normally, he would start his day with some rocks or a line of coke (if he was feeling fancy), however, times were a little tougher than usual and Legs thought it best to to attempt to go clean. That didn't keep him from itching though. The itch hadn't left him in years.
Showers. One shower. A really hot one. The first one in a week. "I'm a dirty, dirty boy", Legs jokingly thought as water cascaded down his grimy skin. The shower in his apartment had some plumbing issues, thus leaving the water without any substantial pressure. This left his already mangled hair wet but not thoroughly cleaned. It was good enough for him though.
He stepped out of the shower and dressed himself with the cleanest clothes he could find. The clock read 2:58 PM. "I should really get outside today", he thought, "the weather isn't too bad". As he was slipping on his shoes, a thin haze began to creep inside his room. A very distinct aroma wafted through the air: one he was very familiar with. "Jesus Christ", he muttered out loud, "I can't let this trigger me".
He immediately left the apartment in search of something to do. By the time he was out the door, however, the floor that he lived on was completely full of smoke. "This shit bouta' reek", he thought to himself as he descended down the stairs. Once outside, he began a leisurely stroll around town. Blue, Shellac, and everywhere in between, he was enjoying the subtle sights and sounds of the place he called home. He hadn't been out for a while at that point.
After a few hours, Legs came across a sign outside the Sunnyside-Up advertising a speed-dating service beginning at 6 PM. He checked his watch. It read 5:55 PM. "Huzzah!", he exclaimed. Upon entering the diner, he immediately went and sat at the first available seat that he could find. He situated himself next to a man at the bar. "Screw it", thought Legs, "I might as well try to make a new friend". He began to talk to the man, and much to his surprise, found that the man didn't simply brush him off like most other people.
He and the man, who identified himself as "Charlie", exchanged a few words. Legs explained his precarious hotbox dilemma to the man, as well as some general facts about his life at the Dreamwood Terrace apartment. Again to his surprise, the man also lived at Dreamwood Terrace. A new neighborly friend. Or so he thought.