PART XXI - BURLAP! I NEED BURLAP!

A rag tag group of people gathered outside the Addiction Research Foundation to meet a small group of perplexed scientists.

"You are addicted to what?"

"Burlap, man, I need musty burlap! Got any?"

"Yeah," said a second addict, "the older the better."

"It would seem that they are addicted to burlap."

"Not just burlap," said the lead scientist. "Musty burlap!"

"How do you take this stuff?"

"We inject it."

"How? Burlap is a solid."

"Yeah, well, we find a sewing machine helps..."

The addict then rolled up a sleeve, "See the tracks?"

As scientists observed, they saw a thread of burlap sewn into his artery using several different stitches.

"It was a Kenmore."

Sid the burlap pusher joined this crowd and opened his trench coat, saying, "Wanna buy a potato sack? Carefully aged in a damp basement, get'em right here..."

The lead scientist asked the second, "Is this illegal?"

"I doubt it. Hospitals sew people's arms up all the time. If they want to do it on their own..."

One addict staggered up to Sid. "I need somethin big, dude. Got anything stronger?"

Looking about furtively, Sid said, "I can getcha a square inch of artist's canvas."

The addict's eyes widened. "How much?"

"Grand."

The lead scientist was shocked. "What is this, a designer drug?"

"Naw, graphic design shit doesn't getcha nearly as high. What we need's the really fine stuff."

"You mean with bleach and everythin'?"

"Yeah, but after a few doses, you have to change to another artery."

Two addicts in the back were admiring the work of their embroidery machines. A third, obviously jealous, glanced away pretending it was nothing.

A Rolls Royce drove up. Sid turned to the driver and said, "Go to the usual spot. The sail cloth's where it was last time." The driver handed out a briefcase. Sid glanced inside and smiled at the stacks of thousand dollar bills.

One scientist passed out on the sidewalk at the sight of the money.

"Get up Emerson! God, how have we missed this for so long?"

"A friend of mine said he was into nylon, but I didn't believe him..."

Sid turned. "Nylon's pocket change. It's no more effective than a cigarette or a cup of coffee. Rayon, on the other hand, is much better. But for max effect, nothing, not even sailcloth, beats Kevlar. High tech wins again."

"By the way, what's yer price on fibre glass?"

"30 thou an ounce, why?"

"Fuck, I could buy a Vette for that kinda cash..."

Sid's eyes widened. "Don't tell them that! The surplus'll kill me!"

Suddenly, a large black car screeched up. Out stepped... The Secret Assassin. "I got half a ton of carbon fibre. Twenty grand a gram." The crowd surged all over the car.

The scientists retreated into the main ARF building and proceeded to bolt the doors, just as a guy with a roll of Dacron on his left shoulder approached the swarm.

The lead scientist said, "Quick, what do we do?"

"Corner the market on sack cloth?"

"Polyester?"

"Experiment with vinyl?"

"Naw, vinyl's dead. How about digital disks?"

"We're looking for material, not music, you TWIT!"

"Aren't we supposed to help these people recover, not push new substances on them?"

"It's all in the name of science. We supply them, study them, then we know how to treat them."

"Got it! I'll get the cotton sutures!"

"Oh God! When the authorities catch on and illegalize materials, kids'll slit their wrists and get high on the stitches!"

"Outlaw materials? What'll we wear?"

The scientists looked at each other. "Where are the nurses?!"

The quiet scientist eyed a spool of thread nestled in his pocket protector.