15 minutes ago, I took a Percocet to reduce a throbbing pain in my jaw. I can already feel its effects, and that includes a haze slowly encompassing my brain. I am not fully responsible for what follows.
Sunday afternoon, following a delightful lunch of leftover chicken tikka masala, I noticed a slight pain in my jaw. After flossing, the pain increased. Being brilliant, I loaded up my Waterpik and shot a 500 mph blast of water into the affected area.
HOLY SHIT. THAT HURTS!
As much as I tried to deny it, I knew the tooth that had been the benefactor of a root canal some six years ago was again infected.
By nightfall, the pain had intensified ten fold. Since I’m a stud, I did what all studs do:
I rolled up into a little ball and whined like a baby.
My GF, concerned for her most incredible lover in the world to maintain peace and get some sleep, tracked down a bottle of Vicodin from a prior oral surgery. It provided enough relief for me to fall asleep. Unfortunately, having experienced an abscessed tooth three times in my life, I knew the Vicodin wouldn’t entirely mute the pain (I was right). So I slept on and off all night, finding solace by hugging our stuffed “Minitee” (a very small manatee), Mabel.
12:36 PM TODAY — THE DRUGS ARE REALLY KICKING IN. HERE’S MY FACE RIGHT NOW:
Eyelids dim. Body relaxed. Ooh. Where did that pain go? I see why people become addicted to painkillers.
WHY DON’T DENTISTS WORK ON SUNDAY NIGHTS?
Idea: McDonald’s is always expanding their menu. Have you seen the Fish McBites? Why not expand their menu to include 24-hour drive-thru endodontic services? Wouldn’t you pay for that? And if you’re a good patient, you get a tiny rubber Grimace.
I’M HIGH. RIGHT NOW.
I don’t do drugs. Almost every time I’ve tried them, something bad has happened.
For instance: My first date with this very hot girl in LA—Aubrey Summers—a girl I’d had my eyes on for years, but had been shot down numerous times. For whatever reason, she finally relented. We went to a movie. We suckled drinks. She invited me back to her apartment. All was going well until she asked, “Do you want to smoke a joint?”
The right answer would’ve been, “No.” But I figured partaking of a mutual toke would be the doorway into her trousers.
From beneath her couch, she produced a cigar box with a bag of weed and some pre-rolled doobies. Apparently, this wasn’t just a hobby.
“You first,” she lit the end of the tiny white beast and passed it to me. I took a GIGANTIC hit.
Flames lept from my mouth and nearly caught her drapes on fire.
“Jesus!” I coughed. “Is this gasoline?”
“You just need to learn how to inhale,” Aubrey said. “Take it in slowly.”
Take it in slowly? I looked into her blue eyes, thinking how erotic that sounded. I’m definitely getting laid.
We passed the thing back and forth a dozen times. That’s when I saw my window of opportunity. I launched my lips upon hers. AT LAST!
STOP. Cotton mouth. Black lung. Saliva gone. Our lips were so dry, it was like two toads humping a piece of sandpaper.
“Well, that wasn’t weird,” she said, pulling quickly away. “I need a drink of water.” Aubrey just about tripped as she got up and headed into her kitchen.
“Do you want anything?” She called from around the wall.
“Water’s good,” I said.
I heard the clink of glasses as Aubrey clawed her way through the cupboard. The sound of water falling from the faucet. The glasses sitting down on the countertop. And then silence. A long, awkward silence. The kind of silence following a fart during sex.
“Aubrey?” I said, assuming she was mad at me for trying to make the move. She didn’t say anything. “Aubrey? What are you doing?” Still no response. “You okay out there?”
That’s when Aubrey emerged from around the wall clutching her throat and pointing at her mouth. She was choking.
I ran over—nearly tripping on the cat—wrapped my arms around Aubrey and gave her my best improvised Heimlich maneuver. Water gushed out of her mouth like a bleeding fire hydrant.
“Oh. My. God. auGi!” Aubrey bent over, trying to catch her breath. “I…I was choking. For like two minutes. If you hadn’t given me…” She paused. “I would be dead.”
Yes. Most guys get high with a woman and spend the night playing Hide the Elephant.
I get high with a woman and rescue her from drowning from a glass of water.
I’M HIGH NOW. DOES ANYBODY WANT TO COME OVER? I GIVE GREAT HEIMLICH.
P.S. What was your worst drug-inspired experience?