In your meth class, while your teacher is busy explaining the correct way to shoot up, your buddy leans over with a calculator and asks you, “hey, man. Do you wanna try some math?”
I clasped my hand nervously. “Math?”
The guy in the hoody nodded. “You heard me.”
“Bro, that stuff’s deadly. Like, don’t people get seriously hooked on that?” I whispered.
The hooded man was silent. “Take it or leave it. One time offer.”
I looked at the needle hanging out of my arm. Meth didn’t seem good enough any more. I needed something more. I needed Meth…to the power of 2. Meth squared.
“Okay, hit me. What you got?”
The shady figure leaned close to me. “We’ll start nice and slow.” He slid a sheet of equations across the desk. “Find x for these bad boys.”
My heart fluttered. I hadn’t felt like this for a long time. It wasn’t till I got to the last equation that I felt the euphoria of pure math. A quadratic equation. Two possible values for x. I felt an aura of ethereal happiness. My happiness was cut short by a huge explosion.
“There’s been a math lab explosion!” Someone screamed.
“They must’ve divided by zero.” Muttered my math dealer. “We need to get out of here.”
I laughed out loud at this!
Reblogged from devilishangel4eva
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