Intestinal Express

The other day I was at the dentist having a crown place on my upper rear molar. Dr. Julie was just checking to see how the fit was and told me that if I feel something drop on the back of my tongue, under no circumstances should I swallow. I told her not to worry, but in a worst case scenario I would just wait a while and go fishing. She told me that if that happened, she would be sure to run it through the sterilizer a few times.

We got to talking and I told her that it wasn’t the first time I had fished something out of the toilet that had taken a ride on the Intestinal Express.

Back when I was in university, my friends and I had spent the day smoking uncontrolled substances and ended up at Gregg’s apartment which he shared with his brother. Gregg was a pretty good chemistry student, at least I think it was chemistry, and his brother made his living as a dealer. We were drinking some tea, and had finished pretty much all of our stash, except for a piece of hash that I was about to bring out. There was a knock on the door, which was weird because we hadn’t buzzed anyone into the building. Gregg got up and opened the door a crack. The next thing we saw was Gregg flying backwards and four guys running into the apartment, guns drawn.

These were pretty rough looking characters and I was sure we were going to get shot over a drug deal that had gone wrong, until one of the guys said ”No one move! RCMP!” Well, that’s a relief, I’m not going to die but I am going to jail. I was the only one with any drugs at all and my buddies all knew that I was carrying. The cops spread out through the apartment to search I guess, while we sat where we were when they came into the apartment. One at a time we went up to the table and emptied our pockets. Gregg went first, but there was nothing in his pockets except for an alligator clip. The cop asked what it was for and Gregg said it was an electrical connector.

Just about this time one of the searchers came out of the back room with one of those small tin aspirin containers. He said “What’s in this?” Gregg looked at it and shrugged, saying “Aspirins?”  Next it was Gary’s turn to be searched, and as they were looking over the contents of his pockets a crash came from the bedroom which drew everyone’s eyes. I took this opportunity to slip the ball of hash out of my pocket and into my mouth, managing to swallow just as the cop pointed at me, saying “You next!”

I wasn’t as confident as you might think, as the ball of hash in its rough tinfoil wrapping had gotten stuck in my throat. I had a vision of coughing and a spit covered ball of hash bouncing off of the cops face. It became evident that although it was stuck it was going to stay where it was for the time being. My buddies were dumbfounded that the cop didn’t find the hash in my pockets. They finished searching me and Tommy, and eventually the rest of the apartment while we sat there trying to look very innocent. The only thing that they managed to find was the aspirin container. They told Gregg that he would have to go to the station on Monday and fill out some forms. You could tell that they were pretty disappointed. I guess they thought that they were going to nab public enemy number one and all they got was an aspirin container and some university students drinking tea. Bummer!

I was pretty happy right about now, because we weren’t dead, the cops were leaving and I would be able to cough up some hash for us to smoke. I would become a cult hero! Well, I would have been if the hash hadn’t chosen this moment to slide down my throat. I explained what happened to the guys and we were all grateful for what had to be divine intervention. What had happened to Gregg’s brother’s stash? Oh well!

You know, I was a poor student in more ways than one, and I didn’t have so much money that I could afford to flush the cost of that hash down the toilet. For the next couple of days I had to do some “fishing” and eventually I found what was lost. It had been wrapped pretty well and of course I cleaned it off, but I couldn’t bring myself to use it knowing where it had been. I carried it around for a while, thinking that time heals all wounds and eventually I could forget where it came from. Nope, I couldn’t do it.

I was beginning to think that I would have to just toss it out when a virtual stranger came up to me and asked if I had any dope to sell. I looked at him and smiled.

“This is your lucky day son, it just so happens that I have a piece of hash and you just have to believe me when I tell you that it is real…good…shit!”