You splash cold water from the bathroom tap in your face and do your best to catch your breath. The shakes are bad this time – as bad as they’ve ever been. You’re not sure you can make it through.
As you’re about to give in, a slate of black and white catches your attention from the corner of your eye.
THERE IS HOPE AFTER DOPE
…says the vomit-inducing platitude spray-painted haphazardly on one-inch plywood.
Who are they trying to fool here? You’re the dopest there is. You caught the championship-winning touchdown senior year of high school. You went out with Sally Fucking Perkins, voted Hottest Girl Around by 10/10 people who actually matter. You gave the H-Bomb of atomic wedgies to the nerdiest kid in math class, after he helped you with your homework.
You won a god damned break-dancing competition.
Long story short, you know that once you’re as dope as you are, there’s nowhere to go but down.
Now if only you could find help with the meth.