Junkie Hunters

Tonight’s episode of the Fraudulent Files: Halfway House Edition will be delayed for a night or two, but in its place is everyone’s favorite human herding show, Junkie Hunters. Tonight’s episode: Adapt and Overcome

The sun has set on another day in South Florida, darkness creeps across the parking lot of New Beginnings One More Time as my partner, Reverend Franklin and I, Stu Prentiss, map out the areas of the concrete wild where we will hunt junkies.

“Rev, I am thinking we go to the traps on South Federal in Lake Worth. I heard Gina is there, and I got a hot tip as to exactly where she is staying.”
“Sounds good Stu. To the recovery van.”
“You have your Square to run the credit cards?”
“Expense money to buy a cap or two?”
“We have to hurry, I’ve got an appointment to finish my sleeve at 9:30.”
“Where are the Red Bulls and tell me you have the vape juice.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo Rev.”
“That’s what your mom said last night.”

We set out on a night full of revelry, and fat referral fees. It feels really good to help people get into recovery, whether it’s the first, second or third time this year. We go the New Sun Gate, and I can only imagine how hideous the Old Sun Gate must have been. I wish they would just embrace the trap life, offer the Cobain, Winehouse, Houston, Staley, etc suites. Instead it’s fucking Elvis, who to be fair, knew his way around a prescription cabinet.

This used to be a much more simple process, just sneak up on any one of hundreds of dumpsters, and tranquilize the junkie looking for free donuts. We throw them into the van, transport them to the inpatient rehab, and sign them up for Obamacare, especially Cigna. So we have had to do a lot more surveillance, finding the higher class of junkie.

“I totally just punned it Rev!”
“That’s what your mom said last night.”

There’s a lot of junkies running around, but once again, Obama has ruined everything. Apparently he doesn’t care about recovery. Now we have to use varying degrees of ethics and morality, so that we can be the impetus of change in these heroin addicts lives. Just yesterday I picked up a girl at an NA meeting, and discreetly slipped a cap and needle into her purse. placed an anonymous call to her halfway manager so that she got thrown out, thus right now we are in a position to 12-Step her right now.The greater good!

“I’m going up to her room. Mic check 1,2, recovery!”
“Read you loud and clear. Let’s make a fucking difference.”

I go to the second floor, the Marilyn Monroe suite. Shit, there’s Red.
“Yo Stu. What’s good? You need more caps?”
“Not now Red. We’re filming this intervention. Don’t worry, I’ll edit you out.”

I knock on the door. “Gina, It’s me Stu Prentiss. I heard you’re in trouble. I want to help.”


After some banter, I ask her for her insurance card.
“I don’t have insurance.”
“Oh, ok, clearly you don’t want help then.”
“But I do.”
“It’s about surrender Gina, and willingness. But I’ll give you $20 for a blow job.”

Time lapses.
“Where’s Gina?”
“She has no insurance. You didn’t hear that?”
“No, it was like the mic malfunctioned.”
“Well, let’s freestyle pick. There has to be someone close by that is still on their parents’ insurance.”
“Let’s go to Burger King. Watch the bathrooms/”
“Always a solid plan Rev.”

We spot an ideal candidate. Well dressed, yet an aura of griminess surrounds her. She goes to the bathroom, and I wait outside the door. Another dirty, disheveled junkie heads to the men’s room, giving me a dirty look. Fucking junkies with no insurance. Take a Puerto Rican shower for fuck’s sake.

As she open’s the door, I hit her right in the neck with a tranq dart. We use Special K. I know someone in the program who works at a veterinarian’s office, and gets us good deals on all sorts of  equine injections. Tren is my favorite. We Weekend at Bernie’s her to the recovery van.


Now’s the moment of truth- I go through her purse. It’s like we just unlocked a secret vault. She has a matching Michael Kors wallet, a great sign. We take the cash, we don’t want her relapsing with all that money. Good lord, her wallet is loaded with credit cards. What is this girl doing in Lake Worth?

“We can’t have her giving her Back Amex to a dealer. Let’s save her from that path. Her parents will thank us.”
“It never fails to amaze me the amount of empathy and foresight you have Stu.”
“Well, I am a Prentiss. Granted, the disowned one, but Daddy will take me back into the fold.”

Then we see it, a Blue Cross PPO card.So shiny.So…money.
Her name is Leslie, and she’s in a huge K hole from the looks of her. We drop her at New Beginnings One More Time.

And just in time. I have to get my skull sleeve finished.
“What an awesome night. It feels fucking awesome to help.”
“God is good.”

My cell phone is ringing. Why did I download that nuclear siren ringtone? My recovery timer tells me I have 7 months, 11 days, 22 minutes of clean time.
“Stu, what the fuck man? That chick Leslie you dropped off last night. Her Dad is an FBI agent. She doesn’t use drugs. The only thing in her system was ketamine.”
“Hmmm…I can see your predicament, cut her loose to save face, or maybe you use that therapist degree and talk to her about denial. It ain’t no river in Egypt.”
“Stu, we are fucked. She kept screaming about charges and fraud.You and the Rev are fucked. Kidnapping.”
“Did the billing go through?”
“Charge it to her Black card.”
No sooner than the word card left my lips than more door is broken down.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I was helping her. My fucking arm doesn’t bend that…” SNAP!

Producer note: We will be searching for a new recovery duo to fill the vacancy of Stu and the Rev. All junkie hunters are welcome to come by for an interview between the hours of 4:00 and 6:00PM.


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