It was in some rat-infested flophouse in Calcutta if my memory serves me correctly. I was lying in a dirty, sweat-soaked bed, dimed on opium, when there came a knock at the door. I got up and went over to see who it was. It’s not like I hadn’t met talking animals before that night. There was that time in Shanghai when I had a four-hour conversation with two mice and what appeared to be a badger. I later convinced myself that it was all just a dream because it was unlikely that a badger would be on vacation in China with two mice. And then there was that time with Todd in Vegas when we were held captive by a porn star and two strippers. They had a snake. And I’m pretty sure that it could talk. But there again I can’t be 100 percent sure that it actually could. A lot of weird things happened that night and a talking snake wouldn’t have been the weirdest.

I got out of bed, went over to the door, opened it, and stood there gazing down at a mongoose wearing a safari get-up and tinted glasses. And that’s how I know it wasn’t a dream: none of the other talking animals I’ve come across ever had luggage.

His name was Basle. Basle Montcliff the Third. And he was passing through to Southeast Asia on a hunting expedition. Basle was a professional tracker and killer of snakes. The kind of expert that had spent a lifetime doing his job meticulously.

Now I’ll admit that I had my doubts about the entire thing at first. After all, I was so high on opium at the time that my own mother could have come to the door and I probably wouldn’t have recognized her. Then again, there was the off chance that the mongoose was my mother.

The strangest thing about the incident was that Basle seemed like the kind of fellow that commonly lodged at far better establishments than the one in which our conversation took place. His refinement dictated better surroundings. I, on the other hand, am at my best whilst doused with shit.

There have been stranger times I’m told. I’ve been assured by some of my closer friends that, on occasion, I have indulged in far more perplexing behaviour than speaking with animals. As one might suspect, I really have no recollection of such activities and can therefore not comment. But I’m convinced that half of what they tell me is accurate and the other half is crap. But that doesn’t mean to say that talking with animals is an irregular thing for me to do. Since my encounter with Basle I talk to them all the time. Like the night I spent in Hanoi with a tiger named Henbob and his elephant friend, Dalafoo. Excellent characters both. Dalafoo, for example, spent most of his life serving the indigenous mountain folk of the interior before escaping into the wilds. An elder statesman of the wilderness community in Southeast Asia, he was a survivor of both the French and American wars. Sadly, he was hit by a vegetable truck some months after our meeting and left lame. Henbob, in an attempt to save his friend, tried in vain to rescue the ailing Dalafoo from the clutches of the poorly equipped Vietnamese Veterinarian Society. But alas, too little too late I’m afraid. Dalafoo died some weeks later, leaving Henbob no choice but to attack some field workers out of frustration and face certain death at the hands of professional wild-game hunters such as Mr. Montcliff. Is it just coincidence that I am able to speak with animals whilst on opium? Maybe. But I firmly believe that if I were to give it up long enough to spend a handful of hours sober I would still have the ability, and privilege, of conversing with my animal friends. Rather, it is the ability that causes the opium. Therein lies the strange balancing act that is my life. Not all things are as easily explained as VCR instructions.

Multiple homicide. Always annoying when it comes to that uncomfortable time between your arraignment and your trial. It’s during this particular stretch that most defendants begin to slip a little and those guilty feelings begin to surface. And let’s face it, you damn well knew what you were doing so don’t try to convince me otherwise. They’re gonna hook you up to a polygraph and get what they want so there ain’t any use practising your poker face. It may have been enough to convince all those college girls to help you look for your lost dog in the woods but it doesn’t fly when it comes to “the machine.�

But don’t panic just yet. You’re still miles from the maximum wing and years from the big gas up. There’s gonna be weeks of debating your mental state as it is, not to mention the fact that your lawyer will probably be able to fend off the district attorney with promises of a full confession that you’ll provide once they have a deal to let you do your time in a loony bin instead of a prison. If that fails then there’s always the chance that you could conveniently remember where you left some bodies or that there were actually more names on your kill sheet than originally thought.

Such tactics are commonplace in these situations. Lawyers need to exhaust these options so it looks like they did their best before they admit to you that you’re fucked and you’re gonna get shot up with enough wacky juice to light up a medium-sized town.

This is where I come in. I’m the ray of sunshine in your otherwise abysmal and rotting inner hell. So relax and just do what I tell you to do and everything will be okay. It’s no secret that temporary insanity is the most widespread cause for juries doubting all sanity-based cases these days. Temporary insanity is a contradiction in terms. To be insane temporarily is to admit that you’re actually sane most of the time. Who, in their right mind, is gonna believe that? “Yes, I did gun down eight people in a fast-food restaurant, but I wasn’t myself at the time, because my dad didn’t take me to ball games when I was a kid and my boss puts too much pressure on me, so I snapped there for a second, but I feel better now.�’ You are fucking nuts. You can forget about any jury taking you seriously when it comes to weak-ass defensive shit like that. They’ll send you to prison simply because you thought they were stupid enough to buy that.

But there is hope. And it comes disguised as many voices and a complicated mosaic of inner turmoil and struggle. Psychiatrists call this particular malady “multiple personality disorder.� Welcome to the psychological land of milk and honey, all six of you.

So I’m gonna walk you through this step by step. But it’s important to remember some things while we’re going through this so you don’t get ahead of yourself. First of all, I’m no shrink. Far from it. So don’t blame me if you don’t have what it takes to pull this off. I’m just giving you the background. Everything after that is up to you. Secondly, always remember to put your own personal spin on all of this. You’ll come to the realization that it’s much easier to create your own alternate self than it is to copy my examples directly.

There are typically two or more different personalities involved. So, depending on your retention and standards of precision, you’ll want to choose a number that’s right for you. Take this into account though. The two personalities thing is always weak. If you only have one alternate personality to fall back on it’s not so easy to convince a jury that you had absolutely no control over your actions. Theoretically it shouldn’t matter, but there’s something about the number two that just doesn’t fly with juries. As far as they’re concerned it just doesn’t make sense for one personality to be fully in control a part of the time and another to be in control the rest of the time. This is possible of course, but to a bunch of relatively sane people who most likely just want to see you fry it’s a little sketchy.

Two personalities can easily be diagnosed as “a split personality� and that’s just not the game we’re playing here. So introduce another personality, or voice, into the mix and you’ve got yourself a mediator of sorts. This represents an inner struggle between the “good� you and the “evil� you. Call it what you like, this third voice is your best way to confuse the issue by turning a half-ass defensive grasp at straws into what appears to be a complex and quite involved psychiatric condition.

Once a jury is confronted with any aspect of confusion, such as the kind created by three independent personalities, you’ll begin to realize that they’re just as confused as you allegedly were when you killed those people. And that’s the crucial element. Once they equate the complexity of that confusion with their own thought processes then you’re halfway to home.

The other half of a winning strategy relies solely on your ability to perform. You have to act the part to such a degree of precision and detail that there can be no doubts. No prosecutor should be able to find holes in your performance. I have to emphasize: if, at any time, you slip up and do something that might indicate that there are discrepancies in your mental deficiency then there’s no getting the loony train back on the tracks. You are, for lack of a better phrase, completely and utterly fucked.

So after you’ve decided on your strategy, start living the part immediately. Don’t wait until you get into the courtroom to start working all those newly devised inner voices. Don’t even tell your lawyer what you’re doing. It’ll be better if he or she doesn’t know. Your lawyer will begin to see signs of your malady and will, hopefully, request a court-appointed psychiatrist to come in and evaluate you. If you can convince a shrink then you can convince anyone. But before we continue let’s be clear: it’s highly unlikely that this particular method is going to get you off free and clear. The best you can hope for is a verdict of guilty by reason of insanity. If you’re going to try and convince a jury that you committed a horrific crime because there are a multitude of other people living in your head then there’s no way they’re going to let you walk.

You should take some time now to decide what you want to do. If you are lucky enough to be sent to a mental institution for the criminally insane instead of death row then you’re going to have to feign this illness for many, many years to come. And, if there comes a time when they discover that you were bullshitting, then they’ll probably put you on an express elevator to hell. You might be an evil genius, but it’s a pretty big undertaking. So take a second and mull it over.

This section is going to give you a little insight into how one goes about creating a believable façade. These are just examples, mind you, so remember that you’re going to want to create your own profile. For my profile I decided to go with five personalities: Little Johnny, Pete, Bob, Steve, and Omen-Damien. Using these five different personalities I’ll hopefully be able to provide you with a good example of how best to utilize this mental construct.

Little Johnny: This is the part of your personality that represents you when you were a child. Maybe daddy beat you with a pipe wrench, maybe mommy locked you in the basement for the winter, your choice. But there’s a better than even chance that you actually did suffer through some form of child abuse (or, according to those politically correct types, you wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place). Slip into this personality when you’re being threatened. Try your best to act like you’re nine years old again and scared shitless. Crying can also come in handy. This is the personality that you use to evade any line of questioning that causes anxiety. Either this one or the violent one.

Pete: The trick to this personality is that it doesn’t know there are other people living in your head. Pete thinks he is sane and doesn’t understand why all of this is happening to him. As far as he’s concerned he just woke up with blood all over his clothes and couldn’t figure out where it came from.

Bob: This is the irrational personality. You’ll most likely want to make Bob somewhat illogical, quick to violence, and impervious to physical posturing by others. This is the personality that likes physicality (such as rape, bludgeoning a victim, or dominating them in some overtly brutish way). If the whole thing (the trial, the questions, whatever) starts getting to you, you can always use this personality to strike back. Simply fly off the handle and attack the prosecutor. There’s nothing better than being tackled to the ground as some maniac and coming up Pete. Works every time.

Steve: Every psychotic killer needs their charming side. Charisma isn’t always a given when it comes to criminals, but for some reason mass murderers seem to have the market cornered. This is the personality that lures, persuades, tempts, and baffles. Steve will show no sign of intent and will always come across as being almost too friendly. Of course, the goal of this personality is usually to slowly strangle his victims while listening to Barry White and drinking boxed wine. This personality can be useful and harmful. A killer yes, but always sexually motivated. Rape is out of the question, by the way. Steve is too good to stoop so low. He’s actually able to score before he gets to the killing part. Hence the term “lady killer.� Use Steve if there’s a female on the prosecution’s team. It’ll start to creep people out before long and will provide you with hours of endless fun.

Omen-Damien: Those that possess a limited intellect dare not attempt to utilize this last personality for fear of making those of us that are evil geniuses look bad. This is the hidden voice that controls the vocal voices. Typically, this personality has constructed the others to provide a buffer between it and what it sees as “accountability.� As far as Omen-Damien is concerned he was brilliant enough to get the others to do the dirty work. Whether it be Steve or Bob it doesn’t really matter. On occasion Omen-Damien will pop up and do some of the dirty work himself, but only when the situation calls for something artistic, precise, or expedient. This is the personality you’ll want to use to baffle people. Using big words and comparing murder to art is always a sure-fire way to make the whole thing hit home. You can use this personality to call up the others if you like. But make sure it’s the only one that has direct contact with them. The other four should not realize that they’re a part of a much bigger picture. The only personality that Damien will not attempt to contact is Pete. Pete is off limits because he’s useful in times of crisis. It’s always good to keep someone around that doesn’t know anything and Omen-Damien realizes this. Shrinks will be trying to pull him out in an attempt to gain some insight into methodology and intent. Give them nothing! Make sure you never answer any question without being evasive and egomaniacal. Unless, that is, you are stupid enough to be tricked. If so, you’re done for.

You might want to spend some time reading a variety of books about criminal insanity and psychological methods of discovery. You also might want to think about injuring yourself on a regular basis to reinforce the fact that you’re nuts. There’s nothing better than hitting your head against a wall for a while until blood is drawn to make others wonder if you’re going to try and bite their ears off. That said, I can only wish you the best of luck in your endeavour. I’m confident that you’ll do just fine. Look at me. I’m living proof that it can work. Instead of spending the rest of my life in prison I get to spend it loaded up on drugs in a mental institution for the criminally insane. At least I get to be examined and interviewed by a whole bunch of sexy female grad students a couple times a year. Ahhh. Now doesn’t that bring back some memories.

Strange things happen all the time. Even stranger things than this. Just last week they found some guy in Oregon in his bathroom with a garden hose stuck up his ass. He thought it felt good when he turned the water on. He forgot that the rules of pressure rarely conform to the rules of pleasure. So there he was. Dead. With a green garden hose stuck in his ass. When his wife found him she wasn’t too sure what to make of it. She was extremely saddened because they had two kids and bills to pay and all that. And she was extremely saddened because she had a deep-seated thing for kink but thought her husband was one of those “by the book� kind of guys. You think you know someone and then one day you realize that all the while you could have been taking home plumbing to new heights.

That’s not to say that Debbie Parks was a sex fiend or anything. Well, at least not when she was sober. Debbie was one of those young girls that suffered from what is known as “a split weekend personality.� Most of the time she was just a regular high-school kid. But on the weekends she tended to turn into someone completely different. And that someone was so drastically different from her usual self that it led some to believe that she was easily influenced. That’s how the whole thing happened. But let me make something clear right now. There’s tragedy and then there’s a tragedy. This was neither. What happened to Debbie was nothing short of the universal definition of “oddity.� That’s the only way to say it without sounding callous.

Debbie was known to be somewhat of a lush on weekends. It was one of those things that wasn’t all that out of the ordinary for a girl her age. The weekends were for partying and everyone did it. Debbie’s problem was that she was a horrible drunk. And by horrible I’m implying that she did things without thinking about them first. Most of the things were just stupid, crazy things that kids tend to do when they’re plastered and feeling somewhat free-spirited. Things like truth or dare, streaking, skinny dipping, and the old “locked in the closet� trick. Debbie did them all and regretted it each time. Every Monday morning she’d walk through the doors at school and hear whispers about her weekend escapades. All the guys loved her because they could get her to take her clothes off in front of everyone at the drop of a hat and all the girls hated her because they didn’t have the guts to. She wasn’t a slut, contrary to the reputation people foisted upon her. Debbie had only ever slept with one boy. And that was when her family went to Disney World. It was one of those last-minute deals when you know you’re never going to see the person again because you’re too young, live too far away, and know in the back of your head that given time you’d probably become quite annoyed by them. So she was rather good about things of that nature. But that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t get naked and slip into an outdoor hot tub filled with cherry Jell-O in the dead of winter now does it?

And that’s exactly how Debbie met her end. Face down in a frozen, cherry Jell-O-filled hot tub. It’s how the tub got filled with Jell-O that’s interesting. You wouldn’t have any interest in reading this story if it was simply about some poor girl that drowned. It’s no different than some kids re-enacting Full Metal Jacket in the hallways of their school in some white, suburban enclave. You’re glued to your TV because you think “Oh my god! How could this happen? Why did this happen! Whose fault is it?!� wa, wa, fucking wa. Three hundred people get hacked to bits in their sleep in some village in North Africa and it gets a blurb in the newspaper. But when something happens in the quiet confines of our perfect little world then it’s a sure-fire sign that chaos is about to break loose in the streets and Satan is possessing the children. The only thing that it is a reflection of is our society’s egomania. We figure we’re so socially superior to everyone else that things of that nature should be uncommon. What we forget is that, like in every great society, the barbarians will one day be at our gates and we will slip quietly into the confines of some coffee-table book about ancient civilizations. And like those civilizations we were just as violently prolific as we were creative, ingenious, and compassionate. Because it all comes in a neat little package that has yet to be altered during our tenure on this rock. Welcome to life in the blind man’s utopia. Retain ticket stub for possible refund.

But that doesn’t explain how a hot tub got filled with Jell-O. It’s quite simple really. All it takes is for your parents to go out of town for two weeks, filling the hot tub with clean, boiling water, adding multiple packs of cherry Jell-O, and allowing the freezing effects of mother nature to run their course. The secret ingredient, of course, would be the eight large bottles of vodka that you also threw in. Presto! Instant drunksicle. So the next thing you do is decide to throw the biggest party of the year and invite the whole school. As the night progresses everyone munches on the Jell-O and gets really hammered. This leads to all kinds of strange events, including the part where someone dares Debbie Parks to get naked and jump into the hot tub filled with the Jell-O. She’s very drunk by that point and ends up going in rather awkwardly and with some momentum. This causes her to hit her head, but she pops up just the same with a big smile on her face and everyone cheers. Debbie starts munching on the stuff while she’s in there and eventually everyone decides they’re cold and goes back inside. Debbie remains in the hot tub. Then she starts to feel a little woozy. Maybe because she’s drunk, maybe because she’s got a concussion. She passes out, her body temperature has melted the Jell-O enough so that there’s some liquid in there and her head slips beneath the surface. And you’ve got yourself one frozen dead girl Jell-O cake.

About ten minutes later some guy who had wandered outside to relieve himself happened to notice that there was a naked girl in the middle of the party’s booze supply. It would definitely mark the end of the night’s proceedings and our boy didn’t want that to happen. There was a girl inside that he was convinced wanted to sleep with him. He was mistaken of course, and quite intoxicated, so he just went back inside and didn’t mention that Debbie Parks was frozen-dead within the icky confines of a hot tub filled with vodka laced cherry Jell-O. Debbie’s body remained there for twenty more minutes before it was discovered by two girls who had ventured out onto the back porch to smoke.

That’s how Debbie Parks drowned in cherry Jell-O. Sad but true. At her funeral nobody knew what to make of her death. Her parents were the most distraught and confused, seeing as their little baby’s booze-soaked corpse had been pulled from a frozen tub of fruitiness. The youngsters of the town learned a valuable lesson that day as well. They realized that going too far was something that wasn’t always a controllable experiment. After a certain critical mass is reached a whole set of volatile factors begin to alter the experiment. This leads to the creation of chaos. It’s an equation that can be applied to much more than just a girl drowning in cherry Jell-O. It’s something that engulfs us all as time passes and makes fools of us without our knowing. And in the end we become so accustomed to seeing ourselves as fools that we think nothing of it. Either that or it’s merely a fable about how not to freeze alcohol-infused gelatin in anything larger than a footbath.

Yeah, it’s a tricky business all right. You’ve got to watch it when your stomach tells you to do one thing and your insatiable need to cut loose and go off tells you to do something else. You might find yourself waking up on some tennis court somewhere in hockey pants with some half-naked chick who’s collapsed in a puddle of her own vomit on the other side of the net. I speak only from experience here kids.

There are always going to be good, solid reasons for not doing a variety of extremely stupid things. Things like sitting in a lawn chair on your seventeenth birthday and drinking ten beers before deciding you have to ride your ten-speed to the store to get tomato juice. You should know better. But something in our nature disappears when inebriation takes hold. We are diminished in a way that mocks us and turns us into those people that stand sidestage during festival performances repeatedly shouting, “PLAY SOME FUCKING HIP!� You know who they are. They’re the ones who have hockey hair but don’t play hockey. They’re the reason classic-rock stations flourish in this backwater country of ours. We could have been so much better than this if only beer wasn’t our national pastime. But that’s not the point. The point is NOT to abuse the secret powers of motion sickness pills. They look harmless enough, all beige and pleasant. But I assure you, they are not so benign. Take care to read the following research carefully. It might just save your life someday.

Research Key:

MSP shall represent “Motion Sickness Pill(s)� throughout.
MSPI shall represent “Motion Sickness Pill Inebriation� throughout.
DE shall stand for “Delusional Episode� throughout.

1) Sex and Motion Sickness Pills

I cannot stress this enough: if you’re going to abuse MSP and expect to have sex you’ll be in for some pleasant and not-so-pleasant surprises. The upside to sex while suffering from MSPI only applies to males. There is a better than fifty percent chance that your staying power will be increased by at least eight to ten minutes. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I am not a woman, I cannot comment on any positives to the female sexual experience during MSPI. The negatives, on the other hand, are far more varied and troubling. There is approximately a forty percent chance that you’ll succumb to the effects of fatigue long before anything even happens. There is also roughly a ten percent chance that you will have a DE involving the person you are with. This usually involves your partner appearing to be a giant lizard of some kind. There is also the possibility that sexual stimulation might be reduced if massive amounts of alcohol have been consumed along with the MSP. In such cases it is highly unlikely that you’ll be able to stand or focus, let alone have sex with a living person. Corpses, on the other hand, don’t tend to move so they’re a little easier to manipulate. If it comes to sex with the dead I wouldn’t worry about it too much. You’ll probably be so out of it that you’ll be experiencing a permanent DE and will most likely think you’re manhandling Carol Alt. (Carol, dear, if you read this don’t be angry: literary license and all.)

2) Operating Complicated Machinery and Appliances

By far this is the most dangerous aspect of MSPI. Attempting to drive a car, work a washing machine, or bake cookies can turn into acts that rival the dangers of walking through a minefield. There is nothing worse for people suffering from MSPI than trying to drive a car, train, boat, plane, or zeppelin. The effects of MSP can vary in such circumstances but the most common ones are as follows:

a) Double vision.
b) Loss of depth perception.
c) Loss of peripheral vision.
d) The effects of altitude are diminished.
e) Having no sense of whether you are horizontal or vertical.
f) The delusion that you are Aqua Man.
g) You will most likely NOT look good doing it.
h) Onboard stereo manipulation while moving is unlikely.
i) Comprehending the difference between D, R, and P will be impossible. They will all appear to be the letter Q.

When it comes to operating household appliances you’ve got to remember some fundamental things. Electricity, heat, and extreme cold are usually involved (radiation and extremely fast-moving dangerous parts being a close second). You should note that the following effects may occur while attempting appliance use:

a) A complete loss of vision (but that’s usually because you’ve simply forgotten to turn the lights on).
b) The inability to feel pain caused by extreme heat, such as sticking a hot iron to your forehead.
c) The inability to detect extreme cold or freezer burn.
d) The inability to properly manipulate door knobs, handles, or buttons of any kind.
e) The overwhelming desire to flip over the lawnmower while it’s running and stare at the blades as they whip around.
f) Operating any kind of power drill or tool will usually cause seizures.
g) Locating ON-OFF buttons is near-impossible.

3) Speech and Motion Sickness Pills

Most people have difficulty speaking as it is, let alone doing it while using MSP. It’s safe to say that you probably won’t be making much sense while under the effects of the pills. Although in rare instances, you might find yourself saying things that far surpass the intelligence that you display on a regular basis. In such cases I strongly suggest that you just go with it. Because let’s face it, when are you going to sound that articulate again?

That said, ninety-nine percent of the time you’ll probably encounter slurred speech and a complete loss of any vocabulary that consists of three syllables or more. This will reduce your ability to communicate to the lowest possible levels, leaving you with the mental prowess of a two-year-old. Such effects are bound to wear off in anywhere from four to six hours, though some people might experience a prolonged speech problem for up to three days depending on whether or not they’ve mixed their MSP with other drugs. If this occurs try to remain calm and, preferably, locked in a room without windows, sharp objects, or lava lamps.

Anyone who bothers to abuse MSP is going to have to live with the fact that speech difficulties are just par for the course. There’s really nothing you can do about it, so just relax and try your best to nod and smile when someone says something to you. The fact that your inner monologue is just as poor as your outer one will be freaking you out enough as it is. So trying to make sense of anything will simply be a waste of your time.

4) The Effects of MSP Abuse on Personal and Working Relationships

Make no mistake about it, it’s going to be a rough ride. If you’ve come to the decision that MSP are going to be a permanent part of your life then you’re going to have to deal with a few facts. First, you can forget about entering into, or remaining in, any kind of romantic relationship. There’s just no way that someone else is going to be able to put up with your habit. There is always the chance that you’ll stumble across a fellow MSP user and life will be grand, but it’s unlikely. It’ll start out alright at first. You’ll just do it on the weekends and everything will seem okay. But as time passes your significant other will begin to notice some ugly changes in you and will eventually call it quits. So you’re going to have to decide pretty quick: the pills or the person?

Hiding a MSP habit from co-workers will also be impossible. There’s just no way to keep something like that hidden for long. So you’ve got two choices. Either you throw yourself down some stairs while on the job and get worker’s comp or start enjoying the benefits of welfare. There’s no way you’ll be able to function at work after a thirty-six-hour MSP binge. No one said that substance abuse was going to be easy. So, once again, you’re going to have to make a choice: MSP or employment? Your call.

5) Mixing Your MSP With Other Substances

It’s a well-known fact that the effects of MSP start to wear off after a while if you’re doing them straight. The next step is to start mixing them with other substances to elevate their potential. The most common mixer is alcohol, preferably hard liquor. Most hardcore MSP addicts will usually mix their pills with either whiskey or vodka. You should stay away from rum, gin, wine, and beer as these tend to make the ride either too rough or not rough enough. If you’re new to the experience you should know one thing though: no MSP user ever takes more than one pill when mixing with booze. It’s just foolishness. Well, the whole thing is foolishness really, so whatever.

When it comes to mixing MSP with other drugs I’m at a loss. It’s an extremely dangerous practice to say the least. One of two things is going to happen in such circumstances. One: you’re going to go way too low, or Two: you’re going to go way too high. Let’s just say that there’s a difference between the normal MSP addict and those who are destructive. If you’re going to bother making the most of an over-the-counter drug then why fuck about with ones that aren’t.

When it comes to mixing with other over-the-counter drugs (and prescription drugs) here’s a short list of ones that are okay (and may even enhance things a bit).

-Nyquil (never Dayquil)
-Zithromax (250 mgs and up)
-Zopiclone (preferably less that 7.5 mgs)
-Cefaclor (250 mgs and up)
-Ciprofloxacin (500 mgs standard)
-Co Actifed syrup
-Ether
-Mescalin

Like so many eyeballs glued to the sloppy remains of some car crash victim, it’s safe to say that your double globes will find their way back here. I’ve been waiting for you to evaporate, like an assassin who realizes too late that escape was never assured but rather implied to heighten resolve. And therein lies the entertainment. The lion and the malnourished Christian playing back and forth. One too stupid to realize he can’t win and one too realistic to allow him to. It perplexes me sometimes, the reasons for choosing which houses to trick-or-treat at and which houses not to. Within the most brightly lit lies the cold heart of some frail, old, discontented granny who has laboured ceaselessly to produce caramel apples with surprise centres. For all those years she put up with those damn kids running through her flowerbeds. Just one bite and you’ll agree, modern medicine never looked so good. No tongue, no problem. If they can teach those stupid chimps to sign then you should have no trouble. So maybe you never did take the time to run it through your mainframe and you just hit every house you could. Treats, after all, are what it’s all about. Eventually you’ll wind up here. Everyone comes by sooner or later. Simply because I leave the lights off.

Another year, another fifty-two weeks wondering where fifty of them went. I’ve been better than this and I’ve been worse. But who’s keeping score? Maybe I’m trapped in a jar, you’re in grade six, and it’s science period. Maybe I’m creepy and maybe I’m beautiful. Maybe you should just check your damn textbook and see what it says. Because I’ve been wondering about that myself.