The Platinum and Diamond Crack Pipe

Smells of burnt plastic pervaded the room. At each table, fiends lit up glass pipes and stems to get their fix. No food remained as cheap beer replaced the elegant victuals and champagne.

When the awards show had neared a close, the crackheads all rejoiced at how they had come this far by the rock. Before the last award was announced, they actually included a remembrance reel of crack addicts who had succumbed to the almighty rock.

As the algorithm remained God, crack represented Jesus. A woman even sang the gospel standard “I go to the Rock.” Since all drugs had been decriminalized and legalized, the night was like a gala of users and abusers.

On staff, emergency units stuck around just in case a medical emergency arose. At last, some fiends announced the final award.

“And our last prize for the night, Best Crack Hustler goes to Vontae Braun!”

The drug dealer took to the stage amid boos and hisses. Although he was the dealer who supplied the drug of choice to them, Braun encountered hostility nonetheless. He stood at the podium as glass pipes shattered against the stage.

“I just want to thank you all for being customers to my premium product.” He walked behind the stage. The master of ceremonies (MC), Klay “Klay Man” McNerny, an actual MC (microphone controller) had resumed selling crack since it had become legal.

“Let’s all give it up for Vontae who is probably going to go back to his mansion and count his money.”

Fiends from the age of seventeen and of all races and ethnicities and nationalities booed and hissed some more.

The lights illuminated overhead. Just as the crackheads started to leave, Mimi the Crack Fiend invoked mysticism again and provided a prayer. Amid odors, her sour message ascended.