Virus Cells

I absolutely love chocolate milk. Everything about it is fantastic. The texture, the way you can see where it's been, unlike regular white, elusive milk. I've been a white milk fan for a while, but I've recently discovered chocolate milk. The thought of adding flavor to something already so great makes me think about mankind's genius every time I have a glass.

I'm planning on capturing one of my subjects. I started a few days ago, maybe a week, and I've been thinking about it ever since I started. I can't get it out of my head, it's such a fantastic idea. I'm not sure what gave me the idea. I'm not really sure why I never thought of it before now.

Once again, as I often do, I find myself looking over all the girls. Just browsing.

For now I must leave my house, because today I start step one.

I'm looking for the right kind of weapons. I've acquired a stun gun, and I'm looking into traquilizers. I've heard good things about etorphine hydrochloride, but it seems the easiest to obtain would be flunitrazepam, also known as rohypnol, or ruffies. It's interesting to know that although it's perceived as the date-rape drug, it's only used in about 1% of all date-rape cases. Really. The statistics are staggering. Turns out GHB is the industry standard. It's used to treat patients with serious insomnia. That would mean I'd have to start staying up to convince the doctor. That would be a long step one.

My research continues for what seems like a very long time, combing the entire catalog of drugs to look for the best effects. Somewhere in this very long time, I have an epiphany, a solution to the problem. Unfortunately, it's the most painful thing I can possibly imagine.

---

This is the site. This is where it all happens. It's chaos. When you're in motion, everything else is just a blur. But if you take a moment to stop, you see every bit of motion there is.

I'm in a club. Couples of opposite genders crash into each other at varying velocities, and a steady fountain of droplets and licks of alcoholic beverage are accidentally thrown into the air in a pattern that goes along with the dreadful, droning electronic music.

Attempting to leave fast, I attempt to look for the most horrifying looking man in the building, preferably someone who is stood up with people coming to him. It takes me all of 30 seconds. I begin my long journey over to a man ten seconds away.

I navigate a sea of potential subjects for my gallery. Everything I see that isn't a man or a fat or ugly woman is a three-dimensional, live version of what gets me so bothered all the time. Their inebriated frames jump around to electronic noises, and men move between them like virus cells attacking their host. Finally after five times the amount of time it should have taken, I get to the man in the corner, who has had six other visitors by the time I finally reach him.

"What do you have?" Perhaps I'm too blunt. I don't know, I don't have a game plan for interactions like this.
"What are you looking for?" I have to improv. I hate improv.
"I'm looking to get knocked the fuck out dude."
"I've got circles, tabs, and plenty of crystal." I fall silent.
"I don't know what any of those things are." I fucking hate improv.
"Ecstasy, MDMA, and...crystal. Meth."
"Okay, can I have all of them?" His eyes bulge with surprise and faint dollar signs.
"How much of them?"
"I don't know, dude." My dude is so forced. "I've got, like, $500 here." He ushers me into the male restroom where we conduct the remainder of our business. He gives me pre-divided quantities of each, and takes my $500.

The heavy bass compensates for the music's lack of flavor, and everyone lets it slide. I put the hefty amount of material in my coat and exit, planning on never coming back again.

Unless I'm hunting.

The End

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