What you don't know

"He's such a quiet guy" were the words that people usually used to describe Pete. This was then followed by something like, "Yeah, he's a nice guy. Never bothers anyone." Even though I knew Pete on a 'friends of friends' kind of basis and knew his life style, even I never knew how sick he really was.

Pete got out of bed and wandered to the kitchen, lighting up a joint in the process. Smoking a joint wasn't anything special to Pete, at least in that it wasn't a special occasion. He never sat down with friends and smoked, there was no ceremony about it. Pete smoked marijuana as if he was smoking a regular cigarette.

Pete then went to work where he spent the day killing chickens. His day was broken down into morning tea break, where he smoked some pot, lunch break which meant more marijuana, then it was off home and dinner whereupon he smoked another joint. His evening was then spent in front of the television. He would then have one final toke then off to bed.

Whenever the boys' went out on the town Pete was always such help. "Who wants to be the sober driver tonight" someone would ask. No one would volunteer, then someone would say "Hey Pete, you haven't been drinking tonight. Will you drive for us?" In his typical monosyllabic way Pete always said "Yep"

In fact no matter what we did, where we went, or who we met, Pete was always there, somewhere. He rarely talked, was always helpful, and for someone who spent their life completely stoned to pieces, he seemed rather level headed. In fact we sometimes wondered if he had developed some natural resistance to the stuff as we never knew quite how he still managed to function.

I left that crowd, and I didn't see any of them for ten years. Then I bumped into Pete by accident.

The doorbell rang. "I'll get it" I offered and headed out to the security door. When I got to the door I stopped and stared in surprise at the person on the other side of the reinforced glass. Pete looked the same and behaved the same. He showed no surprise when I opened the door. "Gudday, it's been a while" was all Pete said. "Ah, Pete" I stammered, "It sure has...Ah, what can I do for you?" I asked. "I've come for my injection" he said. I was a bit slow catching on. "Ah injection for what?" I asked. In his usual calm, unhurried way, Pete said "My schizophrenia medication of course" Pete said with a knowing smile as he walked past me and down the corridor.