Alex Borschel
Creative Writing
Creative Non-Fiction
11/18/2010




Several moments later Paul walked amiably down the aisle laden with various soaps and other hair related products in front of the Pharmacy and the Frozen Food section. He stood in the HBC section of the grocery store, located at the back of the building, and part of the department stood apart from the pharmacy; both of which were in the general direction he was then heading in.

"Good morning, Sue," he said as he approached the Pharmacy's front desk. She was short, shorter than Paul at least. Her hair was grey and curled, a number of which were even streaked with a white that matched the pharmaceutical apron she always wore.
"Good morning young man, what trouble are you getting into today?" she asked Paul.
'The usual," he replied, returning her smile.
"I'm kinda worried, honestly, if I don't get more hours or a pay raise, or some other source of money, well..." he trailed off. Sue listened patiently,
"Well you know what worries me? All these kids who smoke pot these days," she said sharply, "I can't stand for it, it's a dirty, nasty habit that'll kill them. I was just reading today in TIME that so many live the dirty habit."
Paul looked down, though felt as if his ears perked at her words, so deep was his desire to stop and converse then. "I was wondering; what do you think of the legalization of Marijuana?" he asked.
"Oh not that again," Sue groaned, "you know how I feel about the matter; No, it shouldn't be. Period."
Paul paused. He carefully mulled the words over in his head before he asked them aloud.
"Would you say, then, that people who use marijuana are drug users?" he asked slowly. Sue snorted at what he said,
"More like drug abusers," she retorted. Paul blinked, and with the tip of his index finger tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"What if there was a drug, one that was natural occurring and non-cancer causing, and used as a herbal remedy and medicinally for thousands of years. It is normally heated when used, and stimulates people; much artwerk and literature is written while on it. It has global widespread usage, and comes from a green-leafed plant, but is used most widely because of it's effects on people?"
"Marijuana?" Sue asked, sounding bored. Paul blinked again, as if surprised,
"Actually," he said, "I was thinking of coffee."
They were both quiet for a moment. Sue considered what Paul had said, and Paul carefully waited for further reaction.
"If I had specified what I was thinking of, would you still think I was refer
.ring to Marijuana?" he asked quietly.
Sue frowned. "Yes," she growled and leaned against the counter, as if impatient. Though there were two customer's orders to attend to for hours later; she had little better to do than talk with Paul, at least at that part of the day, and they both knew it. Paul shamelessly exploited this knowledge whenever he could, and
not concerning her either.
"-And marijuana being illegal," he continued, "you attribute those qualities I listed to being of the substance... then thusly, are not those qualities then of an illegal substance?" he paused, "Qualities and characters are what define something, no? They are what define tetrahydrocanniboid, or THC from, say, caffeine, no?"
And Sue nodded, she could not disagree with something so obvious and plainly put. Her annoyance grew, as Paul knew it would.
"Yes, they are," she concurred.
"So then if qualities are what define something, then logically, as even illegal or wrong things are still things, then the qualities of illegal things are what make them intrinsically wrong in adherence to our given laws or moralities. But most importantly, I think it is the qualities, the characteristics of illegal things that is what makes them illegal," and as his words lingered, a part of him wondered if he was irritating her. He continued nevertheless, as much to get his point across as to annoy her further. He didn't mind annoying people so long as he got the truth across. Anger faded, but the truth... well it was there forever; stark, real, and
"For example, our land doesn't ban substances wholesale, but rather by chemicals, or something in that substance that composes it. So you see, it is not Marijuana which is banned, it's the THC. There is literally tons of legal marijuana you can legally buy because the THC is absent. Hell, shoe stores sell hemp shoes. What did you think hemp was? It's fiber from male Marijuana plants. The THC, what is illegal, a quality, is only found in female which likewise is illegal, and anything with that quality is thereby illegal also. You change a chemical, one quality, and something illegal becomes legal, and likewise, legal becomes illegal. Right and wrong, like a light switch, being flipped on and off."
"So what?" Sue asked, sounding annoyed. Paul nodded, acceeding in how important the question actually was.
"So, it seems rather obvious to me," he replied, "that coffee and marijuana share similar qualities. Enough so that when I vaguely described it you associated it with marijuana. I feel it would be inappropriate to ask, but why is it coffee is legal, but weed is not?"
Sue shook her head derisively and snorted,
"If you're trying to say coffee and weed are the same thing, well, you're very wrong."
Paul smiled again,
"No I am not saying that. But come now, weed is only more noticeable because it's smoked. In fact, I once asked a man at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting, a person who claimed he had smoked everything under the sun, if he had ever smoked caffeine."
Sue gave him a blank look, in fact there was a little surprise.
"Like... out of a cup?"
"No actually," Paul replied, "I had a similar reaction. I think most people do. He told me it was industrial caffeine, the stuff they add to the military coffee or something like that. Basically it came in powder form."
"And?" she asked, though Paul could tell she was keen to hear.
"Well, if you'll pardon my language, as he put it, 'it fucked him up real good' for roughly forty-five minutes, and made him feel as hyper as having done coke. But, regardless, I'm willing to bet if you put the same amount of weed as one does coffee in a cup of water, the affect would be the same. Marijuana is done normally all at once, whereas coffee is dolled out over time. But to be honest, I've seen people more lit by caffeine than marijuana, and the crash from experience I know, is much worse with the former than the later. The difference between their legality... is one is socially acceptable while the other is not."
"Your point?" Sue repeated. Paul noticed that every few seconds she had begun to look past him, as if there was a line behind him that he was holding up, though there wasn't, and no customer came chivalrously to her rescue. Despite how much she was making it clear he was inconveniencing her, Paul continued.
"Well, recently I werked briefly at a public school a few months ago."
"Oh no," she jested, and raised both hands to cover her mouth in mock horror. Paul laughed with her at himself, unable to deny that it was funny, even if derisive. He cared not. To Paul it was better to be laughed at than with, and surely any of the major merry-andrews would agree.
"It wasn't so bad," he remarked lamely with a jeer smile, "I werked two days a week, for six weeks, and successfully completed my menial job. However, while werking there, I noticed that every teacher, every single one, without exception, drank coffee."
Paul paused,
"Then, if it stands that people who use marijuana are drug abusers, than aren't coffee users drug abusers too?"
"Only if they drink in excess-" Sue replied, but Paul cut her off,
"Which only then is excused because it is socially acceptable." he repeated. "And what is excess?" Paul asked. "If somebody is caught with marijuana once, they go to the same drug programs as those who are suffering from an addiction. If I smoked weed five or six times a week, I'd be considered an abuser, even an addict. Most Americans have coffee once or twice a day, and some more than that!" he exclaimed.
Sue frowned coldly,
"I am not a drug abuser,"
"And I'm not saying you are either, or that if you are it's even necessarily a bad thing, you are." Paul quickly pointed out, "I don't think people who smoke weed are drug abusers anymore than those who drink coffee are. It isn't right or wrong, that's just opinion. But I'm just stating what is and the questions concerning that." Paul breathed in and then out, and with it came the words, "I don't know how much of the substance you use, only you do. If anyone has been thinking that of you..." he trailed off, the implication was clear enough without need of him stating it. Sue's frown only grew with it.
"But more to the point," he continued, "I'm not comfortable that the majority of our nation's educators are drug abusers."
"Coffee is legal," Sue protested.
"Yes? And why isn't marijuana? You use a drug, in the eyes of the law, you might as well abuse it. But why, if weed is equivocable, if less harmful, how is it not legal too?"
"I don't know," she admitted. Paul gave her a small, sympathetic smile.
"I don't know either," he replied, and began to back off, "it doesn't make sense to me. And when we don't know why something is illegal, or wrong, why should we continue to treat it as such? When we can't definitively, undisputably say why something should be illegal, maybe we shouldn't have it be illegal. Maybe we should wait and see, and make sure there is a reason, instead of there being none at all." He shrugged, "after all, if weed was wrong because it was deadly, than cigarettes would be, too. They kill far more than Marijuana."
Again Paul shook his head.
"Tell me Sue, what is the difference between something and nothing?" he asked, the seemingly unrelated question taking her by surprise. She shook head, unsure how or even what to say, thinking that even if she did, it would not be the response he was looking for.
"Everything," he replied, giving the answer for her when it became obvious she expected it from him. "It is infinite. Marijuana, in all its years of use has never killed a single person. Tobacco; millions, hundreds of millions, potentially billions. But even if tobacco had killed just one person, just one, weed, herb, would be infinitely less, as weed has never killed anybody. The difference is everything, and marijuana is infinitely less fatal because of it, and yet at the same is still infinitely more illegal than the poison. It's less harmful than even coffee, which can easily destroy the heart. Paul shook his head again,
"I mean, when I'm at the register, on a daily basis I sell products; tobacco and alcohol, that enable addiction and ruin and even kill lives. Me, with totally legal products, allow others, just by selling it, to destroy lives as thoroughly as any illegal drug dealer-"
"But that's different!" Sue protested. Paul shrugged.
"There used to be an old couple here who I was real friendly with. You know how it is, the familiar customers you get to know. They knew my name, even, without a nametag." and he blinked, "But I don't think I ever caught theirs. I'm much less of a name person than a face person. I guess because names are just words, and words just describe us, but are faces are us, but I digress. I don't like talking about it, because it does my soul no good, but the older gentleman, a very kindly fellow everytime he came through my line, bought a carton of cigarettes every purchase, once a week. They did this on the same day of the week, today in fact, for I suppose forever. They were quite old. One day, about a year ago, though, they just stopped coming. I didn't think much of it for a few weeks until I noticed their abscence. But I didn't think much of it; perhaps they went elsewhere. However, just earlier the lady came to the store, but her husband was not there. I asked her where he was, joking with her that I had not seen the two of them together. She sadly told me that he had passed away from lung cancer."
His words, heavy hung in the air.
"Every pack I sold to him contributed, and though I may never know how much of a hand I had in his death, the fact is, I did. Just as the heroine dealer who sold the addicts last dose before they OD is held responsible, am not I?." he asked at the counter and raised his eyebrows, "How many people have I sold the bottle of wine or case of beer that set them on that road to addiction, or alcoholic rage and abuse? How many packs of cigarettes have I sold, that were the pack that assured that person's cancer and inevitable death? I just wanted to point out, that Marijuana was once sold in pharmacies like the one you werk," he said and patted the counter, "as was Opium and even Heroine, of which the later was even prescribed by doctors. Not many know the blitzkrieg that allowed Nazi Germany's early military successes, was enabled by speed that was rationed out to German soldiers by their superiors. Sigmund Freud, the father of modern psychology both used and advocated the usage of coke as a remedy for any number of ailments, disorders, and insanities. You have a gram of it today, you get twenty-five years. Ecstasy began its use in the office of a therapist helping struggling couples with their marriages. If people hadn't begun overusing it at parties it might even still be used today. And from all that we know that it is not the harm the drug may cause that makes it illegal, but if it is socially acceptable. In the years to come much of what is sold here will be replaced and subsequently made illegal. The drug users of today are tomorrow's abuser. For I certainly consider people who used those drugs that were legal in the past, such as opium or heroine, as drug abusers today."
"But it's different," Sue repeated and protested, "we found those drugs to be harmful, and that there are better ones to be used-"
"Only by matters of time," Paul replied. "Come now, in time the same will occur with all the things we sell here... Your stock will be replaced, and those who cling to what has gone out of fashion will be labeled as deviants, and after enough time, even drug abusers. Look at Aspirin, something incredibly detrimental to the body to the point of being deadly; surely somebody somewhere will create a drug that is more efficient and practical than it, replacing the drug." He shook his head, "The people who used the drugs in the pharmacy today are the next century's drug abusers. Enjoy it while you can. It's just the way of things; you're just next century's illegal drug dealer," His words lingered in the air, and despite her resolute dark frown, he smiled,
"Tobacco, is a good example. It's banned virtually everywhere, and once it becomes socially unacceptable it'll be outlawed. It already has been from everywhere indoors. I was at an amusement park last summer, and the areas where smokers are allowed to smoke are little better than closed off cages." he winked,
"What do you think?" he asked, "still bored?"
"I have to go back to werk," she said sharply, giving him a last, annoyed look, and then turned. She stalked behind the counter, and appeared to be genuinely werking, at least to Paul, shelving and arranging boxes of pills.
In turn, he returned to his own job, whistling an upbeat tune as he absentmindedly returned to spraying, washing, and dusting; skillfully cleaning the wisp-like grey matter away. Paul was certain that if the customers knew just what the dust was, and how much literally covered the store, he was certain they would never shop at Big People and the veritable graveyard that it is.
Every now and then Sue would glance up, over at Paul and then back at her werk. Paul noticed; when it came to people, he always did.
The area, a moment later was clear of everybody but just the two of them.
"You know what I do, to escape the fact I'm a drug dealer?" he asked. Sue looked from over the counter,
"Dare I ask?" she said sarcastically. However, there was a touch of something else, something that begged for more, a release from the truth Paul had shared with her. But it was but one of facet of the bigger truth, for if truth were a diamond, it would be a many sided one, and each side a part of the diamond as a whole. Each side adding beauty, reality, and truth.
"I clean," he answered, "I took the only job they had available at the time, and though I've been trying to escape it ever since, in that aspect, I don't regret my decision. At least I don't help people with their suicide anymore," and he cast a backward glance at the register, "or at least I don't nearly as much as I used to."
Sue paused to listen, and then shook her head.
"That's silly," she said, "I can't just transfer to another job because I disagree with this one. I have a house to pay, kids-" Paul shrugged,
"Take it as you will, or don't. It doesn't affect me either way; only you, and what you think is right and wrong. I'm not telling you what to do, but I am telling you what I did."
He shrugged again, as if dubious to her judgement, and then walked away, returning to his idle sweeping and contentedness.
Though he did not know it, Sue for many minutes stood there, contemplating what he had said. She left early that day, and as she did, folded her apron, and finding herself retiring much earlier than she had expected she would.


-Alexander Borschel