Regrets...There Are a Plenty

My wife hated meth, but considering how much she hated it, she was willing to do just about anything to get it.

*******

I had a baggy containing about a third of a gram of meth...and she wanted it. It was in my right hand and she told me in no uncertain terms to hand it over.

I told her, ”Like fuck I will!"

So, she went for my hand, trying to pry my fingers open, one at a time. Of course, this was an impossible task. When it came to my drugs, a superhuman strength took over...like a mother lifting a car off her child.

I laughed at her efforts, and so, she went next level and bit down on my wrist. She really wanted that bag, but my resolve was not to give in, laughing at her again. Then, she doubled down, biting me even harder.

Now, I do have a high pain threshold, but this was getting ridiculous. I had to think fast.

”You do know I am Hep C positive?” I asked rhetorically, as blood began to trickle down my arm.

At that, she let go, and I made a B-line for the bedroom. As I rounded the corner, I reached into my pocket and replaced the bag with the meth for an empty one I had finished earlier. She was hot on my tail. I kept going, entering the en-suite bathroom, then allowing her just enough time to see me throw the substitute bag into the toilet and flush it down.

She looked at me incredulously and I told her, ”Drugs always cause us problems, that's what I think of them.”

”You fucking idiot!”

Well, that was true...never a truer word has been spoken. But later, as I got that bag out, I felt like the smartest idiot in the world.