"Bottom lineŚwe have a class of people mentally absolved from the rest of society. For they live in a world of such psychological extremes that we cannot even begin to comprehend or rationalize the reasons and compelling forces that drive and undermine their thought processes. . .which results in their trivial existence in our society."

Joel and I would have bailed out, except we were too ashamed to alert our families that we were in jail. We'll probably keep this secret until the day we die. We sat in an overcrowded holding cell sleeplessly for the rest of the night and into the morning. Sleepless because it was impossible to sleep in the cramped sitting positions on the concrete floor that space allowed. And with the constant noise of the other prisoners around me, I definitely didn't get any rest.

Continuing, I say now, "Ultimately, it's my conclusion that the political group, 'Drug addicts,' are anything but. Drug addicts are not a political group. They have no political affiliations. . ."

When Joel and I were released this morning without any charges filed I was left with only four hours before my report was due to be given in Sociology. Tired, struggling to keep my eyes open and not fall asleep where I stood, I knew that I was in no shape mentally to present the report. So after a little coaxing from Lee, who I called from a pay phone near the jail, I took a taxi to his house in Venice Beach. He presented me with his "secret stash" of crank, told me "it's better not to take it dry," and poured me a shot glass of tequila.

I ate a rock.

We then jumped in my car, which had been there since the night before, and sped for UCLA.

Another reason for the unwavering attention of the class might be due to the periodic twitching and jerking form that's seated to my side, hidden from curious eyes by a rippling white sheet.

". . . .A political group must have representatives in government. . .or even be capable of representatives that, of course, represent the wants and needs of a people." Pacing relentlessly, it's almost impossible to control the crank affecting shrillness of my voice. "And because drug addicts are so far removed from the contemporary thinking of normal society, there can be no representatives. . . for none could bridge the vast gap between these two worlds."

I spring across the floor to the shuddering white sheet and throw my bulging eyes on the class. The thought that I may not be making any sense suddenly crosses my mind. I lock gazes with Professor McGinnis.

"I would like to present Exhibit A." And with that I whip the cover off this Pandora's Box, revealing Lee who's now been sleepless for fourteen days. Barefoot, long-john clad, strapped tool belt, and eyeballs the size of Ping-Pong balls jutting from their sockets.

"WHOOH-EEH!" he shrieks aloud as he launches to his feet. "WHAT'S UP, BROS!"

I can only say, "Any questions?"

Start Over

Click Here Now for
INTERVIEW WITH THE CRANK ADDICT
- The Outrageous Comic Series

---