The Queen Has a Problem

First, she started disappearing. It was a minute or two. Then she would be back as if nothing was amiss. But it wouldn't last. She needed more. A minute wasn't enough time. She took a few minutes. Then a few more. Her ecstasy knew no bounds and she started to make little frenzied yips of happiness. It's what gave her away. I went to look for her. This is what I found: The Junkie Queen and her paper drug.

They say that drugs will bring you down. She had started innocuously enough with napkins. Small nips and bites. Gentle tugs until when you went to use your napkin wasn't there. It was being torn to bits and ingested by the Junkie Queen.

She had had the whole roll and time to take bites and licks off of it. Would she ever be satisfied going cold turkey? It was going to be hard. On us, on HRH. All bathroom doors, barred to the Queen. TP on restricted access. HRH on lockdown. Hard times at McLean House.

Gone were the days when random rolls of TP could be found in baskets upon the floor. HRH would have to dream about the baskets of TP sort of like hobos dream of Rock Candy Mountain. And if you don't know about Rock Candy Mountain...