Tomislav was sixteen, just an ordinary teenager from a rather ordinary Zagreb family, living in an ordinary apartment in the centre of town. Everything seemed to be going smoothly in his life; he had fine grades, lots of friends, and generally, his daily routine was rarely interrupted, always there to pick him up with the flow. Tomislav was happy. He was planning to study at university for mere knowledge, while he planned to make a living as a musician, for he was the lead guitarist of a local punk-rock band, known as “LUDA OSA”, or “CRAZY WASP”.
So, Tomislav, naive as he was, never managed to notice that his closest friends, the members of the band, could potentially become drug addicts. Now, the high-school Tomo (that’s how they call him) went to was a fine, “elite” one. No one would ever expect cocaine to get into that neighbourhood even, let alone a school in the very centre of Zagreb. Clearly, things had changed.
It all started when a new student, Hrvoje, arrived. One could see he was strange from a mile away. Yes he was new at school, and yes he didn’t yet start to fit in, but it was just his appearance, his behaviour. It was something subconscious that made him stand out. He always looked somewhat guilty, pursued, always turning around as if someone was constantly stalking him. There was a certain mysterious tone in his deep, green eyes. Tomislav tried to friendly approach him and welcome him to school, and Hrvoje shaped his lips like a prune and showed a sick expression on his face - why? It’s a queer thing to do if someone tries to show friendliness to you.
Honestly, Hrvoje had a reason to watch out - so there you go, I’ll say what it was alright - he had “the stuff”. He needed money, for whatever it was, and cocaine, that he could rather easily and cheaply get, was just the thing that brought in the most. The first victim of the crime was Petar, the vocal from “LUDA OSA”, who couldn’t stand the horrid urge to buy 2 grams of white powder for 400kn. Probably saw one of his favorite famous punkers sedate themselves. So much about role-models. Good deal, at least for Hrvoje who was pretty satisfied with his first customer.
It was only a matter of time before the tolerant and optimistic Tomislav found out, since he was an important member of the band, and a good friend of Petar. It was after one of their practices when the other (the drummer, rhythm guitarist, and bassist) had left, and the two stayed alone for a few minutes. Soon Petar unfolds the small package of cocaine on a mirror he bought at the cosmetics store.
Now listen; this is exactly how it happened that one spring afternoon on a bright and sunny day. Let me put you there...
It wouldn’t be even close to enough to say that Tomislav is surprised. He is shocked, eyes popped open, lower jaw hanging, only a scream is missing. He can clearly recall his father’s words: “Don’t you hang out with that lot!”. Now they suddenly have a meaning. Adrenaline... just racing through his veins, heart pumping as if he had just ran a marathon in full sprint. No, no, no! The words echo in his mind. Starting to feel drowsy, dizzy, he is losing consciousness. He takes a few clumsy steps back. However, he comes to his senses, face pale as a deadman’s. Our hero then turns around to leave without a word, but then the situation becomes worse!
Pero offers him a ration of the notorious substance, “C’mon mate, have a share, try it!”
Tomislav couldn’t find anything to say; he mouthed something and stuttered,
“Mmmm - I - mmm - couldn’t...”
“Oh don’t be a sissy”, Petar encouraged.
Tomislav still just couldn’t think, as if his brain didn’t exist, “Mmmm - no - mm - not now - mmmm...”
Then he left, walking slowly at first, then gathering pace, with his new Gibson SG with a “humbucker” P-90 pickup (of which he was very proud) strapped around his shoulder. Pero called after his friend, then he shrugged and took a deep sniff...
The day after at school, Tomislav was gone, well, not physically, but his mind was far from present in the classroom. The words of prof. Pavičić, the arithmetic professor, zoomed into one of Tomo’s ears, and exited through the other. The events of the previous day tired him, but he couldn’t stop stressing about it. Why is Petar do this to himself? What is his problem? He never was like that...
Thoughts like these circled Tomislav’s mind. He couldn’t concentrate one single bit. This whole situation with drugs horrified him, he suddenly became somehow afraid of his very best friend. Should he talk to him about the whole thing, maybe it was just one of Pero’s scandals, but if it really was, didn’t it go way too far? He doodled on the worn green top of the desk. The atmosphere in the classroom in the left wing of the school-building was dull. There was a storm outside, the pouring rain crashing into the windows in waves rushed by the strong wind.
Tomislav then looked around at his fellow students, he located Petar, who sat in the second to first row of desks. Petar turned around, and their eyes met for a moment, with Pero’s desperate look, and Tomislav’s full of questions. He now thought up the idea of talking to his friend about the issue. Maybe he could help, or could he?
Hours of school passed by, and for Tomislav’s mind it was nothing but torture, since he was occupied with thoughts that had nothing to do with chemistry, physics, and biology, in fact, they had nothing to do with the learning of school subjects at all. Finally, the last bell rings, and a horde of about five hundred students piles down the wide staircase and out of the building. No one can stop the eagerness of high-schoolers to get out of “prison”.
Tomislav decided to put his idea into action, he gazed through the crowd, searching for Petar, and sooner or later he sees the gray coat and black schoolbag of his best mate. Once they were both out in the street, Tomislav catches up. He doesn’t exactly know how to start the conversation. But Petar talks first instead.
“Tomo. I - I - I know what you’re going to say. I - I mean - I know I shouldn't have done it. It - It’s terrible, them drugs, and all of that stuff. I - I - I’m so sorry...”, and he broke, he burst into tears. Tomislav had never seen Pero cry, he tries to speak...
“But, Pero, why did you sedate yourself? You never were like that, were you?”
“No - sniff - I guess - sniff.”, Pero softly replies.
“Tell me, how did you get your hands cocaine? Who sold it to you?”, Tomislav couldn’t hold his questions back.
“Mm - sniff - that new guy - sniff - what’s his name? - sniff he sold it to me - mm - sniff.”
“Really? Hrvoje? It’s ok Pero don’t cry I understand you.”, Tomislav says, though he couldn’t understand a bit why.
“You - mm - sniff - won’t tell anyone - mm - tell me you won’t - sniff - please don’t! Tomo!”, Petar almost shouts.
Then they hear the rustle of someones rain-coat behind them. They turn around and see... …see Hrvoje...
They walk faster and turn the corner, even though that isn’t the direct way home (Petar and Tomislav live in the same building).
“Whooo.”, breaths Tomislav when they lost Hrvoje, “He was stalking us, dammit!”
Mostly because of their fatigue, they didn’t really care about Hrvoje. Once you are sixteen and are in the third grade of high-school, you cannot exactly “tell on” someone, if you understand what I mean. What Tomislav and Pero could do, is report him to the police. He would then probably be accused and convicted to a year or so at a juvenile prison institution to cool down, and learn the law. He would be doing physical work. However, Hrvoje would have the right to speak, and would point out that Pero was his customer. So they didn’t do it, and the dealer remained free. Life goes on...
The next time “LUDA OSA” met up at the end of that week they played one of their very own songs. It is called, The Tragedy of Our Generation. I have provided the lyrics...
So, Tomislav, naive as he was, never managed to notice that his closest friends, the members of the band, could potentially become drug addicts. Now, the high-school Tomo (that’s how they call him) went to was a fine, “elite” one. No one would ever expect cocaine to get into that neighbourhood even, let alone a school in the very centre of Zagreb. Clearly, things had changed.
It all started when a new student, Hrvoje, arrived. One could see he was strange from a mile away. Yes he was new at school, and yes he didn’t yet start to fit in, but it was just his appearance, his behaviour. It was something subconscious that made him stand out. He always looked somewhat guilty, pursued, always turning around as if someone was constantly stalking him. There was a certain mysterious tone in his deep, green eyes. Tomislav tried to friendly approach him and welcome him to school, and Hrvoje shaped his lips like a prune and showed a sick expression on his face - why? It’s a queer thing to do if someone tries to show friendliness to you.
Honestly, Hrvoje had a reason to watch out - so there you go, I’ll say what it was alright - he had “the stuff”. He needed money, for whatever it was, and cocaine, that he could rather easily and cheaply get, was just the thing that brought in the most. The first victim of the crime was Petar, the vocal from “LUDA OSA”, who couldn’t stand the horrid urge to buy 2 grams of white powder for 400kn. Probably saw one of his favorite famous punkers sedate themselves. So much about role-models. Good deal, at least for Hrvoje who was pretty satisfied with his first customer.
It was only a matter of time before the tolerant and optimistic Tomislav found out, since he was an important member of the band, and a good friend of Petar. It was after one of their practices when the other (the drummer, rhythm guitarist, and bassist) had left, and the two stayed alone for a few minutes. Soon Petar unfolds the small package of cocaine on a mirror he bought at the cosmetics store.
Now listen; this is exactly how it happened that one spring afternoon on a bright and sunny day. Let me put you there...
It wouldn’t be even close to enough to say that Tomislav is surprised. He is shocked, eyes popped open, lower jaw hanging, only a scream is missing. He can clearly recall his father’s words: “Don’t you hang out with that lot!”. Now they suddenly have a meaning. Adrenaline... just racing through his veins, heart pumping as if he had just ran a marathon in full sprint. No, no, no! The words echo in his mind. Starting to feel drowsy, dizzy, he is losing consciousness. He takes a few clumsy steps back. However, he comes to his senses, face pale as a deadman’s. Our hero then turns around to leave without a word, but then the situation becomes worse!
Pero offers him a ration of the notorious substance, “C’mon mate, have a share, try it!”
Tomislav couldn’t find anything to say; he mouthed something and stuttered,
“Mmmm - I - mmm - couldn’t...”
“Oh don’t be a sissy”, Petar encouraged.
Tomislav still just couldn’t think, as if his brain didn’t exist, “Mmmm - no - mm - not now - mmmm...”
Then he left, walking slowly at first, then gathering pace, with his new Gibson SG with a “humbucker” P-90 pickup (of which he was very proud) strapped around his shoulder. Pero called after his friend, then he shrugged and took a deep sniff...
The day after at school, Tomislav was gone, well, not physically, but his mind was far from present in the classroom. The words of prof. Pavičić, the arithmetic professor, zoomed into one of Tomo’s ears, and exited through the other. The events of the previous day tired him, but he couldn’t stop stressing about it. Why is Petar do this to himself? What is his problem? He never was like that...
Thoughts like these circled Tomislav’s mind. He couldn’t concentrate one single bit. This whole situation with drugs horrified him, he suddenly became somehow afraid of his very best friend. Should he talk to him about the whole thing, maybe it was just one of Pero’s scandals, but if it really was, didn’t it go way too far? He doodled on the worn green top of the desk. The atmosphere in the classroom in the left wing of the school-building was dull. There was a storm outside, the pouring rain crashing into the windows in waves rushed by the strong wind.
Tomislav then looked around at his fellow students, he located Petar, who sat in the second to first row of desks. Petar turned around, and their eyes met for a moment, with Pero’s desperate look, and Tomislav’s full of questions. He now thought up the idea of talking to his friend about the issue. Maybe he could help, or could he?
Hours of school passed by, and for Tomislav’s mind it was nothing but torture, since he was occupied with thoughts that had nothing to do with chemistry, physics, and biology, in fact, they had nothing to do with the learning of school subjects at all. Finally, the last bell rings, and a horde of about five hundred students piles down the wide staircase and out of the building. No one can stop the eagerness of high-schoolers to get out of “prison”.
Tomislav decided to put his idea into action, he gazed through the crowd, searching for Petar, and sooner or later he sees the gray coat and black schoolbag of his best mate. Once they were both out in the street, Tomislav catches up. He doesn’t exactly know how to start the conversation. But Petar talks first instead.
“Tomo. I - I - I know what you’re going to say. I - I mean - I know I shouldn't have done it. It - It’s terrible, them drugs, and all of that stuff. I - I - I’m so sorry...”, and he broke, he burst into tears. Tomislav had never seen Pero cry, he tries to speak...
“But, Pero, why did you sedate yourself? You never were like that, were you?”
“No - sniff - I guess - sniff.”, Pero softly replies.
“Tell me, how did you get your hands cocaine? Who sold it to you?”, Tomislav couldn’t hold his questions back.
“Mm - sniff - that new guy - sniff - what’s his name? - sniff he sold it to me - mm - sniff.”
“Really? Hrvoje? It’s ok Pero don’t cry I understand you.”, Tomislav says, though he couldn’t understand a bit why.
“You - mm - sniff - won’t tell anyone - mm - tell me you won’t - sniff - please don’t! Tomo!”, Petar almost shouts.
Then they hear the rustle of someones rain-coat behind them. They turn around and see... …see Hrvoje...
They walk faster and turn the corner, even though that isn’t the direct way home (Petar and Tomislav live in the same building).
“Whooo.”, breaths Tomislav when they lost Hrvoje, “He was stalking us, dammit!”
Mostly because of their fatigue, they didn’t really care about Hrvoje. Once you are sixteen and are in the third grade of high-school, you cannot exactly “tell on” someone, if you understand what I mean. What Tomislav and Pero could do, is report him to the police. He would then probably be accused and convicted to a year or so at a juvenile prison institution to cool down, and learn the law. He would be doing physical work. However, Hrvoje would have the right to speak, and would point out that Pero was his customer. So they didn’t do it, and the dealer remained free. Life goes on...
The next time “LUDA OSA” met up at the end of that week they played one of their very own songs. It is called, The Tragedy of Our Generation. I have provided the lyrics...
The Tragedy of Our Generation
I wake up in the morning,
knowing I’ll be going to sleep in a bed of concrete
What’s the point to live?
When all you do is give
They say just sacrifice
C’mon, roll the dice
You have nothing to lose
We are the heroes
Of a time bearing a zero
That is the tragedy,
of our generation
We’re going down with the rest of the nation!
That is the tragedy,
of our generation...
-Marko,
The Author
