OricXe - Column for 1/12


Look at me now. The sight of me should sicken you.

You can see the drool can't you. Have you ever seen anyone look so almost dead?

Feel my pulse.

It's barely there isn't it? Don't worry, I'll live, but your face seems to wonder how I can to be so dreadful. Look to your left. Do you see the bag? What's going through your head right now?

Could it be, "White powder? Probably cocaine or heroin...but so much. It looks like there was about a kg of drugs in here. He should be dead."

Pick it up and taste it to make sure you're right.

Have you ever tasted cocaine or heroin? I know that you know that no illegal drug is supposed to taste that sweet. So I'll confirm you suspicion. It is sugar, the best sugar this side of the Atlantic.

Don't look so surprised. Anyway, you've been promised a story of my life.

I guess it started when I was still in the grip of childhood. There was an unwritten rule that if you made tea or coffee for anyone else, you should make some for yourself. Dear Mother absolutely loved tea and she loved me to make it. She drank about fifteen cups of tea a day and I made every last one of them. Six heaped teaspoons of sugar in a 300ml cup seems about right.

That also meant that I drank fifteen cups of coffee with seven teaspoons of the good stuff were what I was accustomed to. Mother would shout at me every time there wasn't any sugar in the house. Rightly so, because I ate most of it.

We had only normal sugar in our home. On one fateful day my sister decided to try to bake a cake. She bought all the ingredients including the icing sugar.

When everyone was gone, I snuck into the kitchen and took a taste of this most enticingly fine sugar. The sentence, "I had an epiphany." would seem to describe the feeling better than any other that comes to mind. From then on all my pocket money was spent on buying icing sugar. At that point the addiction was already out of control.

Once, in a coffee shop, the waitress looked like she was about to faint after being told that I wanted ten sugars in my take-out. "Heaped please"

At college an introduction to Johnny would change my life. He became my drug dealer of sorts. He sold me China Red. Some ugly fucking red sugar from China. Fucking addictive shit, I must say. Every time I took a bit of the red stuff I had multipleer...epiphanies, you could say. China kept me satisfied for a more than year before the need for something stronger swept over my psyche.

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