I’ve Got My Meth Lab Up And Running
Wow. Breaking Bad. What a fantastic show—riveting plot lines, excellent writing, and, most of all, educational. If a middle-aged high school teacher can straddle family life, cancer, and a fledgling career as a meth cook, imagine how high I can fly. Healthy, no kids, and a pretty good idea of how to run an elaborate smack empire thanks to HBO’s The Wire.
Oh, the places I’ll go!
That’s why I started a meth lab right here in my apartment.*(**)
Of course, they never come right out and give an exact recipe on BB. And Googling ‘how to cook meth’ is the mark of a fool. Here’s how I do it: whenever I’m at the grocery store, I head to the cleaning supply aisle, and load up my cart with anything that says ‘toxic,’ ‘avoid contact with skin,’ etc. That’s how you know it’s good. Then you head over to the pharmacy, and get your cough medicines, lubes, protein powders.
I bring all this home, toss it in a pot, and simmer. Yes, it gets noxious. It’s supposed to. I know I’ve got tweaker’s gold when the fumes infiltrate my nostrils, and I pass out, waking up hours, sometime even days later, soaked in urine and sweat.
Then I pour some pineapple juice in for a vitamin C boost, squirt in liberal amounts of model airplane glue to aid coagulation, and presto, meth, or something similar. It will destroy your insides, that’s all you need to know. Come get some.
*Law enforcement officials read: I’m joking.
**Law enforcement officials don’t read: I’m not kidding. Come, buy my meth.