The higher the clonic, the better,” stated Agent X during an interview at one of the recently opened Centro de Liquification de Bolivia, a chain of “enema shops” which is expanding like Starbucks throughout the ever increasing numbers of strip malls in Central and South America, catering to high level officials, foreign dignitaries and law enforcement personnel of all stripes who cannot professionally afford to use the dirt cheap ($.50 USD/dose) and highly potent heroin (92.23 %) and cocaine (98%) via more “normal” routes of administration, lest the Administration discover and lock them in some rat infested hell hole of a prison or ship them back to the States where their Drug of Choice, if available, is generally less potent and between 10 and 20 times more expensive.
Agent X, who this reporter recently interviewed at El Centro de Liquification de Bolivia de Calle a Dia de Mayo y Aviendo de Julio Inglesias en San Juan, offered me a cigarillo sin filtro, lit one himself, smiled and commenced babbling while relaxing nude on one of the luxury, tilting and twirling mesas administracion y evacuacion where he lay (at the beginning of the interview) at a 140° angle (head down and to the South, a position I discovered which was violently changed at seemingly random intervals upon the customer’s “request” -- which, judging from the other customers in the five mesa room was accomplished by screaming (in any one of a multitude of tongues) “I CAN’T STAND IT ANYMORE!!!!!” or “Ahhhhhhh, uno mas por favor, Lourdes (or Maria or Guadalupe or, for a select few, Jorge).
“You have no clue,” Agent X declared. “It’s amazing... un pocito coca ii amor Maria, la muchacha mas linda de todos los mujeres en San Juan y todos del monde... really brilliant. Condoms break and as we know are... well, we’ve heard, let me put it that way, they are a pain in the esophagus to get down. Corn, on the other hand, especially the kind sold frozen for 50Ę for eight ears at Safeway, is immune to the hydrochloric acid and other nasty digestive juices of the human gastrointestinal tract. OK, Maria, un triple Belushi por favor. “Anywhoooooooooo, bambina ese es frio! Well, this doctor... Minayshun... Dr. L.U. Minayshun... some sort of story of how he escaped the Apocalypse and on a series of dummy passports, got out of Yahoo/GeoCities where there is still an enormous price on his head... kidnapping, Mann Act, practicing medicine without a license, ADW, posting to ADH under an assumed name, peeing in public, pimping, elder abuse, drug experimentation without FDA approval, Cyber Terrorism by removing the code for the Yahoo/GeoCities watermark and pop-up ads, and conspiracy to swipe intellectual property rights to a “cradle to grave and back again” scheme whereby one hand sells one or more substances while the other “cures” any problems resulting from the use of the substances... a “method” sold to the Japanese about a decade ago....”
“What about the corn!??”
“Keep your pants on or I’ll run you in for possession of Yohimbine Hydrochloride cut with Folger’s Crystals you swine... that stuff could kill somebody!
“So Minayshun goes underground and develops this super tough genetically altered corn, and if you fly over Argentina, you’ll see hecatares and gigatares and what not of this stuff... except he grows it miniature and full size, you dig? He gets some very small microprocessors manufactured in the PRC - that’s Red China, where they’re always looking for a good way to screw the Western Devils, has them smuggled in on those refugee ships so he gets the chips in and the slave labor to implant the chips....
In the beginning of the end, there’s a 0ne, two three four five - six or eight or nine or ten or 12 step process... ready?
“1. The mule fasts for three days;
2. Then he eats a few kernels of regular sized Super Corn a/k/a S Corn - that’s your genetically altered computerized corn- loaded with Lomotil and Imodium for uh, blocking purposes - the stomach’s acids activate the Lomotil/Imodium and the fool’s stopped up for weeks!;
3. He then eats some empty kernels of S corn to act as a buffer;
4. Now comes the real science. The exact number of kernels of S-Corn loaded with a little known concoction known as Go Lyte are swallowed whole;
5. The mule is fed as many “Mimi Ears, stuffed with whatever thing whoever desires to get where ever the mule may be going; and
6. Lastly, the mule is given a second anatomically calculated number S Corn Kernels containing Go Lyte;
7. “The mule departs for where ever. No fear the corn kernels will rupture killing the poor bastard, unless John Law gets too close, in which case there’s a geek nearby with a Palm Pilot ready to punch in the instant destruct code and those mules will croak before you can say “Body Cavity Search”... a tasty but rare sight. And I don’t care if he takes the Kon Tiki from London to Hong Kong, he ain’t going to poop while those plugging Kernels are in him.
8. “At Customs they can X-ray him and regardless, all they’ll find is he’s eaten corn and it’s undigested, and every Customs Agent whose been to a barbecue knows that isn’t unusual;
9. Mule clears Customs, hops in a cab, goes to some safe house;
10. Importer uses his wireless windows based whatchamacallit” to:
a. set off the first set of computerized S-corn. Within a few seconds, because “Go Lyte” is quite effective, the so-called plug is pulled;
b. Now they could let nature take it’s course, but these are mules, after all. Duct tape a garbage bag to the mule’s butt and punch in another code and in less than a minute, a couple kilos of whatever, safely encased in S-corn fills the sack; and
11. As the mule leaves thinking ‘America! Those nice people at Bogota Travel fed me like a king and then assured me I wouldn’t need to use the rest room and thank God they were right since my free ticket was right in the middle of a 20 person row and they were showing all episodes of I Love Lucy to help familiarize us with the culture... and then they got rid of my annoying constipation and gave me a free coupon for a Big Mac and fries to pick up on my way to register for nuclear physics classes at MIT! I love this freaking country!’, the importer is using his Palm Pilot to send the last code to the miniature ears of S Corn, which causes the ‘indestructible’ outer shell to dissolve, either leaving super pure whatever, or for a couple bucks more, cutting the stuff right there in the garbage bag.
“That’s amazing,” I insincerely tell Agent X as I finally climb aboard one of the mesas out of sheer exhaustion and boredom, wondering who the hell will buy this stupid article I’ve just spent three months researching and wishing I was sipping rum on the beach in Cartagena. “Grease me up Maria. I’ll have what Agent X is having.”
“Here, son, try some of this corn....”