"What have you done with your clothes?" the woman asked..
"Lost my f*cking shirt," the naked fellow answered. "Threw ‘em outside."
"You promised you wouldn’t gamble anymore," the man said. Then added: “I forgot. Addicts cannot help it.”
"Do you people have names?" Adam said.
"Who are you?" the woman said.
"Adam Panflick is my name."
"Are you a compulsive gambler too?" the woman said.
"No and neither is he. If he was, he wouldn’t have a scintilla of freedom, right? True addiction is by definition slavery, a rare and disgusting phenomenon. Most addicts are products of the addiction business, rather like prisons and justice when you think about it."
"Listen, mister," the man next to Adam said.
"Panflick," Adam replied.
"I don't know who you are or what your addiction is, but I can assure you that over half the people you see are addicted to something. In Yemen, it's qat. In our Nation's Capitol, it's crack. There are thousands and thousands of addictions. Power. Work. You name it. In Ashtabula, my mother-in-law is hooked on one of the most addictive substances on earth, nicotine. She's home from the hospital waiting for the end. She can't quit. This man here is addicted to alcohol, cigarettes, gambling and acting out.."
"Can it, Chester," the woman said.
"Chester!" Adam exclaimed.
"Can it, you," the woman said to Adam. "Let's get to work."
She turned to the gambling-nicotine-alcohol fellow. "Where are your clothes, Warren?"
"Two names," Adam muttered.
"My clothes are out there," Warren answered, gesturing toward the door.
"Lost my f*cking shirt," the naked fellow answered. "Threw ‘em outside."
"You promised you wouldn’t gamble anymore," the man said. Then added: “I forgot. Addicts cannot help it.”
"Do you people have names?" Adam said.
"Adam Panflick is my name."
"Are you a compulsive gambler too?" the woman said.
"No and neither is he. If he was, he wouldn’t have a scintilla of freedom, right? True addiction is by definition slavery, a rare and disgusting phenomenon. Most addicts are products of the addiction business, rather like prisons and justice when you think about it."
"Listen, mister," the man next to Adam said.
"Panflick," Adam replied.
"I don't know who you are or what your addiction is, but I can assure you that over half the people you see are addicted to something. In Yemen, it's qat. In our Nation's Capitol, it's crack. There are thousands and thousands of addictions. Power. Work. You name it. In Ashtabula, my mother-in-law is hooked on one of the most addictive substances on earth, nicotine. She's home from the hospital waiting for the end. She can't quit. This man here is addicted to alcohol, cigarettes, gambling and acting out.."
"Can it, Chester," the woman said.
"Chester!" Adam exclaimed.
"Can it, you," the woman said to Adam. "Let's get to work."
She turned to the gambling-nicotine-alcohol fellow. "Where are your clothes, Warren?"
"Two names," Adam muttered.
"My clothes are out there," Warren answered, gesturing toward the door.
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