Archive for September, 2005

50 Milligrams of What?

Thursday, September 29th, 2005

“You said come over here fast. I got here in eight minutes. I had to miss the end of Alias. What’s the big idea?”
“I need your help. I figure a guy like you will know what to do. Seriously, I’m in a hell of a jam.”
“All right, come clean. What’s the scoop?”
“See this?”
“It’s a shoe box.”
“No, you big baboon, it’s my stash. I got my entire drug collection in here.”
“You keep your drug collection in a shoe box?”
“Where am I supposed to put it, in a museum? Now shut up for a second. I been collecting drugs for years, you understand. See this? What do you suppose this is?”
“Looks like eye drops.”
“Right, which means it’s LSD, because LSD goes in the Visine bottle. What about this?”
“It’s a bag of mushrooms.”
“Right! Easy! Now take a look at this.”
“I’m looking.”
“Tell me what that is.”
“It’s a bag of capsules.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“It’s a bag of capsules with white powder in them.”
“I’m not blind, you lousy snake brain! I’m asking you, what is that white powder?”
“How the hell should I know? It’s your bag!”
“That’s my problem! Back when I got this bag, I clearly must have known what it was, or I wouldn’t have put it in the shoe box. It don’t go in the shoe box unless it’s of significant value and merit, you understand?”
“Right, so why didn’t you label it?”
“Well, let’s say a guy doesn’t know he’s even starting a drug collection. He’s just, you know, collecting drugs, thinking he might take ’em next weekend, or the week after. Of course he’ll remember what it is. But then, see this bag?”
“It’s another bag of capsules.”
“Ain’t you ever heard of a Sharpie?”
“Sure, look at this bag, all the capsules are clearly labeled ‘50 milligrams.’”
“Fifty milligrams of what?”
“How the hell should I know? THAT’S MY GODDAMN PROBLEM! Look, this bag here, these are all pressed tabs with a cute little Playboy bunny on them. You get a bag like that, you just throw it in the shoe box and rest content in the knowledge that you have a nice long weekend with very little motor control ahead of you and that’s that. But this bag here, I mean, a fellow could spend his whole life wondering what these goddamn gel caps are, and never get high!”
“I don’t get it. You do not have an infinite number of unmarked caps in there.”
“No, no I don’t, but what I do have is a tendency to do drugs on occasion, which as you can imagine has resulted in a shall we say degradation of the ol’ memory banks.”
“It’s a real dilemma.”
“I’m telling you, it is! Look, somebody went to the trouble of cooking that powder up in a very clandestine lab somewhere, and somebody else went to the trouble of measuring it out very precisely and dumping it into these handy vegan gel caps. It would be a CRIMINAL ACT to just dump this stuff in the toilet!”
“Technically, it would be a criminal act to keep it in a shoe box.”
“Will you shut up? I’m saying, it’s got to be something worth taking. But I mean, Christ, I find a pill on the floor nowadays, and if I can’t trace the markings on the Internet, I still got to stick it in the shoe box because it might be worth something!”
“I don’t know, if it’s on the floor then it’s got dirt on it—”
“Listen, you giant ape, I’m telling you we have a real situation here. We can’t just walk into the university and ask for an analysis! For starters, those bastard college students would just tell us it’s placebo and keep it for their lascivious sex parties. But what are we going to do with it? You can’t take it to a rave and sell it as a Mystery Mickey – well, actually, those raver kids ain’t always that bright, but what I mean is, you can’t in good conscience do that… so I’m left with a shoe box full of white powder and nothing I can do with it!”
“Now that ain’t true. Look, it ain’t poison, you know that much.”
“Some of the stuff I took in my life, that’s debatable.”
“I’m just saying, when you put it in the shoe box, you thought it was worth having, your dirty floor pills notwithstanding. So just start taking these caps and see what happens.”
“That is a completely irresponsible suggestion! Have you no shame?”
“No, I have no shame. I also have no shoe box, so I suggest you invite me over when you do it.”
“There ain’t ground control this side of the Mississippi that would sit for a night like that.”
“Clearly we will have to hire professionals.”
“And who would that be?”
“Oh for Christ’s sake. You’re about as helpful as a brush fire on a submarine.”
“Well, if we can’t consume the stuff, we may as well get rid of it. It’s a sad state of affairs, but seriously, get yourself a goddamn Sharpie and move on with your life. You may as well just throw everything in the toilet and have a burial at sea. And face facts: you’re a drug abuser, plain and simple, the way you treat that powder, like a bum, like a dirty heel with no respect.”
“I feel like I need to do penance.”
“I feel the same way. And that’s why I’m confiscating this bag of Playboy pills, before you forget you even have ’em and the shoe box gets tossed in the recycling.”
“Some friend you turned out to be.”
“I’ll be even more friendly with a couple of these pills in me. You mind if I just watch TV over here for a while?”