COFFEE

     In my free time, especially after a grueling workday, there is nothing I like to do more than get high. Not stupid, bloated and stinky from consuming alcohol or retarded and drowsy from smoking dope, but high like a phoenix risen from the ashes. A high that simulates what life would be like if the electricity that powers us all was freed from the confines of our physical beings. Its scientific name is caffeine, but they call it Joe, mud, and java on the street. Caffeine comes from coffee beans that are harvested in Central America, South America, and East Asia, then immersed in boiling water. It's cost is negligible, (as little as $1.00 a pop) and it is not against the law in any of the fifty states, though there is a moderate risk of addiction.
     I visited my dealer shortly after 6PM on Friday evening. He moves his product from a small cafe in a local bookstore. Aside from French Vanilla flavoring the stuff he sold me was uncut, so I diluted it with whipped cream, half-and-half, and four sugars to make oral consumption less revolting. I then took a seat at nearby table and waited for the drug to infiltrate my central nervous system, keeping a pen and paper within arm's reach in order to record a firsthand account of the drug's effects.

8:04 PM I orally ingest one large "cup" of Joe.

8:12 PM I involuntarily perform the drum solo from Abbey Road's "The End" using only my feet.

8:17 PM How unusual, a mosquito just landed on my arm and was instantly zapped to death.

8:23 PM I'm sweating profusely.

8:29 PM I'm shouting obscenities, twitching uncontrollably, and exhibiting a wide variety of symptoms indicative of Torret's syndrome.

8:31 PM I just asked a total stranger to punch me in the stomach. She did.

8:44 PM I just took a hostage.

11:43 PM Where am I? Am I in jail? Sweet baby Jesus!