"It'll take a few days until you'll start feeling the effects," the doctor said. As he continued to drone on, I slowly drove a small pencil into my brain. I could taste the lead as it toxified into my bloodstream. I began to feel pale and my head ached. It felt good, as though I was purifying myself with the pain.

I immediately stopped when I realised the doctor was silent. His face briefly flickered with concern, but then fell back to its normal placidity.

"Tell me," he asked, "why did you do that?"

"Frustration," I mumbled, shamefully pulling the pencil out of my head. Wanting to change topic, I asked, "So what are the effects?"

"Sex," he said, leaning forward with his chin resting on his clasped hands. "Lots and lots of sex." He then went on to explain the mechanics of sex in unnecessary detail, stopping occassionally for lengthy digressions about his own personal experiences, particularly in Africa and Peru. I was suprised at his candor, but also felt like I was dying a little inside.