Dial-a-Ditz.

Matisse isn’t the only one who gets fun phone calls.

*Ring ring*

Hello, thank you for calling Lanius’ Lair of Lechery.*

A nice female voice greets my ears. “Hi, do you have sulivium?”

Yeesh! At least this one didn’t ask if we have saliva. Nope, we all have dry mouth here. Do you mean “Salvia”?

“Yes. Sorry, salvia. Um, what sizes do you have of it?”

We have one gram packages of extract from five times to twenty-one times strength.

“And how much is the xxxx dollar one?”

Why are you asking me for a variable you’ve already supplied? We don’t actually have any at that price; the strongest we have is only xxxx dollars.

“OK, and how many milligrams is that?”

I have to pause, suppress sarcastic reprisal instinct. The abysmal lack of education integral to that query makes me despair for the world. One-thousand milligrams in one gram.

“OK, and how strong is it?”

Clean out your fucking ears bitch! Twenty-one times.

“Alright, and is that an extract or a leaf?”

Extract. As if I didn’t mention that at very beginning of the conversation, I’d really fucking love to know how to concentrate a bloody leaf without extraction.

“That’s all I wanted to know. Thanks.”

*Click*

What I’d love to know is why you haven’t tried to see the pretty blue lights hidden in your wall outlets. Perhaps you should be less interested in things to reduce your mind to tallow and instead take a nice leisurely swim in a fast flowing river swaddled in a burlap sack of bricks.