Drugs Are Bad, mmmkay…

July 25, 2011 at 5:29 pm (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly)

Not all drugs. Just the ones I’ve been finding lately.

I’m always finding lost items. It’s a fringe benefit of working off-peak hours, when most of the population stumbling around has had a few too many. I’m constantly scanning the ground for cash, and occasionally find other stuff.

At work, there’s a nut and cracker rack in front of the register. Folks are always dropping coins, cash and such. It rattles down, lost into the void. (We call it the Plinko board.) I clean it once a day, and find anywhere from a few pennies to $23. Best find? A $50 bill! Yee haw!

I found Klonopin tablets a while back. I offered them to Tilly the Hon, but it was not her bag, man. Into the trash. Walking through the park on the way home, I found a little baggie that contained what looked like tiny white pills. I scooped them up, only to discover that they were tiny cotton balls, presumably for filtering IV drugs. I left them on the lip of a street corner trashcan. For the needy…

On the way to work yesterday, I stopped at a bench for a minute. Sitting on the bench was a small metal heart-shaped stash box. I stuck it in my pocket and took it to work for further investigation. Weird Steven wandered in and asked what I was doing?

I told him. “I’ll bet it’s either weed, powder or pills.”

I pulled the tape off, and yup, a small baggie of tiny white pills amongst a bunch of powder. Had I hit the motherlode?

I pondered who to call? If I called Rain, I’d be opening *that* whole can of worms again. The Porno Queen? She likes the pharmaceuticals, but I wouldn’t see her for weeks if they were anything good. Who else knows their pills?

I called Meg. “Hey, up for an adventure?” I told her what I’d found. “I don’t want them on me at work, and I don’t even know if they’re any good. Can you come get them, read the markings on them and call me back? I’ll look them up on my computer.”

“I’ll be right there!” Here she comes to save the daaay…

Meg arrived a few minutes later. I palmed them to her while Tilly meandered about, straightening things. “They look like oxys,” said Meg. “I’ll get some numbers and call you back.”

A half-hour later my cell phone rang. She read me the numbers. I wrote them down, waited for Tilly to head for the office, then looked them up. I dialed Meg back.

“Throw them away.”

“What are they? Birth control?” She giggled.

“Nope, but close. They’re estrogen replacement pills.”

I read her the list of side-effects and conditions. “Think they’ll make my boobs bigger?” she asked.

“I think that only works on guys.” I added, “You have the boobs of a sixteen-year-old cheerleader. Most women would kill to look like you shirtless…”

She still doesn’t believe me. “They could always be bigger,” is her answer to anything relating to her chest.

“You could always sell the powder to the Porno Queen.” I immediately regretted saying that.

“Ooh…” I could see the devil and angel perched upon her shoulders. “Nah, I don’t want her boobs to get bigger than mine.”

“It…won’t…do that.” I gave up.

“Just kidding. I’ve already flushed them.”

“WHAT? Now the Tidy-Bowl Man is going to have man-boobies!”

“But you said- Aughh!” She hung up with a laugh.

And so goes the war on street drugs. Some skeezed-out toothless wonder won’t be injecting estrogen replacement therapy drugs. Meg’s boobies will remain firm, compact and perky. Rain and the Porno Queen won’t OD on my watch.

And the heart-shaped stash-box with November inscribed on the lid? I know a certain pothead with a birthday coming up…

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