Read Requiem for a Dream for Free Online

I
shoot the son of a bitch back in my vein. Sheeit, you got a one track
mine jim. Yeah, and the tracks are all up and down his arm. The
giggling and snickering was approaching laughter as they nodded in
time to the up tempo music, taking an occasional drag on a cigarette,
seeing the drab gray of the concrete floor they were sitting on but
not noticing it, involved with how they felt, and baby they felt
gooood. The last notes were still in their heads when another tune
started. Hey, you dig what they playin? Damn, ah aint heard this
since befoe I started shootin stuff. Sheeit, aint no record that ol
jim. Marion leaned comfortably into Harrys shoulder, her eyes and
face soft in a smile. Remember when we used to dig this cat downtown?
Yeah . . . The voice so filled with nostalgia that you could almost
see the memories floating through the blue smoke, memories not only
of music and joy and youth, but, perhaps, of dreams. They listened to
the music, each hearing it in his own way, feeling relaxed and a part
of the music, a part of each other, and almost a part of the world.
And so another swinging night in the Bronx County Morgue slowly
drifted toward another day.
    The phone rang a second time and Sara Goldfarb leaned
toward the phone as she continued to adjust the rabbit ears on her
set, torn between the need to know who was calling and to get rid of
the lines that darted, from time to time, across the picture, and she
ooood as she tensed and squinted, leaning more and more toward the
phone as it rang again, one hand reaching for the phone while the
tips of the fingers of the other hand continued to tap the antenna
over one centimeter at a time. Im coming, Im coming. Dont hang up,
and she lunged at the phone, almost falling down in the middle of the
sixth ring and flopping on the chair. Hello? Mrs. Gold-farb? Mrs.
Sara Goldfarb? Its me. Speaking. The voice was so bright and cheery
and so enthusiastic and real that she turned toward the TV set to see
if the voice was coming from there. Mrs. Goldfarb, this is Lyle
Russel of the McDick Corporation. She looked at the  phone. She
knew for real that his voice was coming from there, but it sounded
just like a television announcer. She kept at least one eye on the
television as she listened and spoke to Lyle Russel of the McDick
Corporation. Mrs. Goldfarb, how would you like to be a contestant on
one of televisions most poignant, most heartwarming programs? Oooo
me? On the television???? She kept looking from the phone to the
television, and back again, trying to look at both at the same time.
Hahaha, I thought you would Mrs. Goldfarb. I can tell just by the
warmth in your voice that you are just the kind of individual we want
for our programs. Sara Goldfarb blushed and blinked, I never thought
that maybe I would be on the television. Im just a— O haha, I know
how you feel Mrs. Goldfarb. Believe me when I say I am just  as
thrilled as you to be a part of this fantastic industry. I consider
myself one of the luckiest men in the world because every day I get a
chance to help people just like yourself, Mrs. Goldfarb, to be a part
of programming that not only are we proud of but the entire
industry—no, the entire nation is proud of. Harrys mother was
clutching the top of her dress, feeling her heart palpitate, her eyes
blinking with excitement. O, I never dreamed . . . Lyle Russels voice
became earnest. Very earnest. Mrs. Goldfarb, do you know what
programs I am referring to? Do you have any idea? No ... I a ... Im
watching an Ajax and Im not sure . . . On the television???? Mrs.
Goldfarb, are you sitting down? If not, please sit down immediately
because when I tell you what programs I am talking about you will be
dizzy with joy. Im  sitting. Im sitting already, Mrs. Goldfarb
I'm talking about none other than . . . his voice suddenly stopped
and Sara Goldfarb clutched even tighter at the top of her dress and
stared wide-eyed at the phone and the television, not sure from