I Tried to Kill My Dumb Friend and Now I'm on Probation

Chapter 7: Not Taking Narcotics, Please Don't Ask

A/N: The first few comments I got here were bots. Great. I've never had this happen but whatever, 'guess it probably had to do the tags for this story since they're actually common ones this time. Oh, and special thanks to the two people who actually read and voted on this so far. Even though it's the same two who always vote on everything aha..

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"Shlut up. Ish' not funny..."

"Yes. Yes it is!"

Let me tell you a couple helpful pieces of wisdom about sleeping pills. One: Don't take six when the box says to just take two. Last night, I was so desperate for some decent rest that I just rummaged through the medicine cabinet until I found my mom's old prescription sleeping pills. She hasn't taken any in forever, since she started doing that new-wave tai-chi yoga dance-thing, so I decided to use a few for myself.

Unfortunately, I forgot to check the recommended dosage, and by the time I actually did check, I'd already popped three times as many as was recommended for my age. But, seriously, try three weeks as a chronic insomniac and you won't care what the stupid box says.

Did I sleep? Try "blacked out for six hours straight". Well, for the first twenty minutes I just felt all loopy, but then nothing. Out like a light. Which brings me to Helpful Piece of Wisdom Number Two: After consuming, remember to bolt all doors and windows. I woke up sprawled across the living room carpet at about seven o'clock in the morning. I have no idea where in the heck I could have gone during those six hours, but the soles of my socks were jet black, and I'm pretty sure I ate a good deal of the things in my refrigerator.

Number Three, you ask? If you do so happen to ignore numbers one and two, do not go to school. Why? Because your speech will be slurred; your eyes will go in and out of focus at random intervals; your breath will smell pungently of tuna, garlic, and chocolate ice cream; and you will be laughed at.

"You sound like a drug addict!"

"Shchut... up!"

"You're drunk!"

"I am'n... ott!"

"Yes you are! You totally are!"

My stupid classmates have been making comments on my temporary speech impediment all morning long. I'd make a comment back, but since my brain is currently moving at about four miles per hour, all I can do is try to brush them off with responses like, "I'mmot drunk. Shchut up."

By second hour, although my speech has not improved by much, my thought process is back to normal. It takes a slow and painful reading aloud from three pages of my history book, but my mind finally decides to click on. Unfortunately, even though I'm now thinking, I still sound funny. I swear on my life that I'm never taking any medicine again. For anything. Not even if I'm about to die of some horrible disease. Never.

The bell rings. I step out of the room, textbook in my arms. I pass Billy at his locker, talking to Matt from my science class. I head for my... wait. Who was he talking to? And why?

I run back down the hall and grab Billy's shoulder. "Bfilly?!"

"Ah! Mandy?! Where'd you come from?"

I hold my grip on his shoulder firmly. "Whab're you thwo thalkim abouh'?"

"Wh..." Billy looks at me. "What are we... what?"

"Not thelling any... shecreths, are you?"

"What about sheep kids?"

"Shecreths!"

"Umm," says Matt, "I believe it's goats that have kids."

"What's wrong with your voice, Mandy?"