Yeah, I know I said I wouldn't do this again... :) I was lonely. It was a Tuesday. I'm always lonely on Tuesdays, unless it's one of those Tuesdays when I have to "maintain order" for large crowds downtown. By "maintain order" I mean, of course, yell if people don't do what I say. Threats work sometimes too, but generally I'm not physically imposing enough for that. Anyway, on this particular Tuesday I was home alone, bored, and snorting dishwashing detergent "just to see what happens." Suddenly a tiny little "friend" appeared in my field of vision. This "friend" looked suspiciously like a cockroach wearing a tuxedo, but I didn't say anything, because it would have been quite an insult if it were in fact a little person and I'd called him a cockroach. There was no verbal communication from this new "friend" of mine, but I could sense his words inside my head, as though I'd gone schizophrenic only the voices weren't saying "kill kill kill!" No, in fact, my little buddy was complimenting me on my choice of hobby. Apparently he'd been told that dishwashing detergent was what the "classy" people snorted these days. This made me feel good inside, since I'd blown all my cocaine money on cocaine, and dishwashing detergent was much more affordable (although some of the stuff you can find on the street is a little steep, and it leaves filmy spots on your dishes). Anyway, after vomiting and passing out, I awoke and my "friend" was gone. A few days later I snorted some more detergent and he reappeared. Naturally, I started chatting with him, and it was fun for a while, but once we started talking politics it got to be a bit of a mess. I told him that I was pissed off by the whole Iraq fiasco, and I really wished George Bush would get out, and he became furious! "Do you know how many died in 9/11?," he said. "Yeah, it was around three thousand I think, not counting all the people who've died in Afganistan and Iraq as an indirect result." "No," he shouted back, "that's only the tip of the iceberg! A friend of a friend of a friend's friend of mine told me that over a million cockroaches died in the towers! Can you believe that?!!" I didn't know how to respond to that. Although I had to suppress a wry smile forming on my face when I realised that the likelyhood he was, in fact, a cockroach had at least doubled. But damn, if he was a cockroach, he was a good looking, sharply dressed cockroach! I'd always heard they were filthy so that came as a bit of a suprise, but I suppose stereotypes often turn out to be false. Still, the self-righteous rant about liberals aiding and abetting a "cockroach holocaust" that followed really put me off. Luckily I vomited and passed out shortly thereafter. Needless to say, these days I try to keep a lot more busy on Tuesdays, and I haven't snorted any dishwashing detergent since...