He didn't need cocaine he had 5 hour energy

He didn't need cocaine he had 5 hour energy drink. He would buy gallons of it, boil it down until it evaporated into a solid then grind it up and snort it all day at the hospital

dispensary. Lord knows why he didn't just help himself to the methadone and assorted prescription drugs but maybe he had an inkling on conscience. And that is what I pinned my hope

that looked tattered yet important somehow. I opened it. Inside was nothing except a small folded note. My stomach churned as I read "Welcome,

stranger! Be warned, this note signifies something far more than a simple greeting. As you may have noticed, you can now hear the words, because I am standing right behind you."

I turned, and found nobody there. At first I thought this was a prank, but the note vanished as well, as did the floor beneath, and I fell into the inky black void of

cyberspace. I could see emails flowing by in a wide, deep stream of words. There was a forest of menacing password protectors and domain guardians that paid me no heed. What really

irritated me was that sweaty, awkward computer security guy following my every move. When I jack into the international cyberweb, I want to escape. I hastily logged into

the Ubernet, famed for its speed, security and capacity. Time slowed, oozing by like molasses on a cold Arctic night. But even with all the hours in the universe,

all the books in the great libraries, and all the images on the Ubernet, nobody has ever achieved anything without copious amounts of lubrication.