CRACK ATTACK!

It's plastic! Damn it, that is right. You can't go smoking plastic again. You'll find yourself passed out on the living room floor again.

Damn that bitch that sold you the plastic! Double damn her!!!!!!!! Doesn't she know who the fuck you are!? Does she know just who she tried to screw over? Well...neither do you, now that you think about it. You scratch your head for a minute trying to remember exactly who you are. Your favorite number is blue sometimes. This is what happens when you smoke plastic, you tell yourself. Fucking ho.

You kick the plastic bits across the room in anger and frustration. Stupid imposter crack rocks!

You sit down on the floor and struggle with a bad fit of the shakes and shivers. You need crack. You're not sure how much longer you can go on without it. But to get crack you need money. And to get money you need to do stuff. Hard stuff. Getting a regular job like everyone else is out of the question, of course. But maybe you can pawn something, or rob someone.

Maybe you can trade that plastic back to the stupid bitch that sold you it for some real crack. Or, better yet, maybe you could just beat the shit out of her and get some real crack!