So your grandpappy, pap-pap, or whatever you call him, might have some crazy adventure tales about wars, bullets, skulls, wolves, saving drowning babies or lassoing shit. Your mum and dad may have tripped-out, daisy in the pussy, naked peen dangling in the river, LSD beard stories. Uncle Dennis might spin a few yarns about the cocaine roller skates amyl nitrate mesh tank top and huge AIDS moustaches. But us kids, when we get old and ready to rock the rocking chair with tales, all our stories will be about pill adventures.

The Xanax and the naps in the fire. The OxyContin and all the pennies in your butt. The anti-depressant experiment binges and forcing yourself to masturbate at least twice a year because Zoloft killed your sex drive. The hydrocodone, wine and slobbery voicemails. The Ritalin snorting sessions where you shave your entire body. The Klonopin kisses. That old Wellbutrin wiggle, that funky Paxil breakdown. And the one pill adventure that I think I will most enjoy retelling to the grandbabies, which will both horrify and entice them, and go nicely with a big, toothless old-lady grin and candlelight, is that of my time on 30mg Adderall. Yes, those little orange time-release capsule from Hades.

Stay the fuck away from it unless you are curious about how far inward one can travel into the dank, sloshy pit of paranoia. In that case, you go there, girl. You know that feeling you get in your stomach when the cocaine is wearing off very quickly and if you don’t do another line soon you will succumb to the burning depression rising up through your body like a river full of black watery shit? When you are thinking so hard and deeply on the most insignificant tiny thought that you can almost hear the skull tightening in on your grey matter and wringing every bit of wetness left of your brain till it feels like a dessicated blowfish stuck behind your eyes? When you get the urge to find the most all-hole-filled, rapey, sadomasochistic porn to satiate your sustained state of psychotic horniness? The constant hum of silence becoming unbearably deafening and making your ears swell like heaving bullfrogs tied to your cranium? What is that hum???!!! The air is pixelated? Your face is dots? If grandma tells me she loves me one more time I am going to stab her face until it is one satisfying giant hole? And yay! This is time-release and that means basically forever. The docs finally did it and took every tiny slice of fun out of pill abuse with this little orange attack. The pill adventure that will unveil the wicked!