CRACK ATTACK!

Traitor.

How can you turn your back on crack!? Have you no heart? Have you no soul? People like you make me sick! Tell me, Mr. Meth-Head, how are the crack dealers going to feed their hungry prostitutes without someone to buy their crack? Slangin' boulders is all they know! Could you really live with yourself knowing that the new rims your friendly neighborhood dealer wants for his/her Cadillac wont be coming this Christmas because their best customer has decided to quit smoking? Can you look them in the eyes and tell them that!?

Your cousin Rob, however, seems thrilled with the decision. "Great!" he rejoices. "I knew you'd come around, cuz. I need another assistant anyway." You arch an inquisitive eyebrow. "Assistant?"

He nods. "I cook up the shit, cuz. Didn't you know? Not around here, of course. I got a secret lab out in the woods. We'll be bringin' in all kinds of money, man. We'll be fuckin' RICH!" You're hesitant to go along with your cousin's scheme. "I dunno, Rob," you mutter apprehensibly. "Usually when I need money I just go burglarize my mom's place. Isn't cooking meth kinda dangerous?"

"Danger, schmanger!" Rob assures you. You wait several moments for him to articulate his case. Nothing happens. "Uhhh," you stammer. "Is that all you've got to say?"

Rob shrugs indifferently. "Pretty much. I mean, what's dangerous to one person isn't necessarily dangerous to me." You're starting to second guess all of this...