[stylist] Short Story: The War On Drugs

[Miss Thea]

Hi, Bridget.
I'm glad you saw the humor at the end.
Once they'd locked up the criminals and thrown away the key, they didn't 
care what they did. The line about getting busted was a joke between the 
prisoners. Hahahaha.
When I go through the story with a fine-toothed comb, I think I'll emphasize 
that just a bit, maybe show the kids in their cells trying out for real what 
their mom's dreams got them canned for. Hahaha.
Personally, I'm not a big believer in the war on drugs. But that's another 
subject.
Thea





Thea Ramsay
Wellness Coach
Herbalife Distributor
www.GoHerbalife.com/thea-ramsay/en-CA
-----Original Message----- 
From: Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter via stylist
Sent: Tuesday, September 29, 2015 11:33 AM
To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List'
Cc: Bridgit Kuenning-Pollpeter
Subject: Re: [stylist] Short Story: The War On Drugs

Thea,

Interesting and funny. This is a lot like the movie Minority Report starring 
Tom Cruise, which is about how in the future, police have the ability to 
"see" into the future and know if a person is thinking of committing a crime 
or not. These potential criminals are subsequently arrested.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Miss Thea via 
stylist
Sent: Tuesday, September 29, 2015 10:09 AM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Cc: Miss Thea <thearamsay at rogers.com>; writingblind at yahoogroups.com
Subject: [stylist] Short Story: The War On Drugs

Just a little break from my girls, Lucy and Lithe.
I woke up from a self-incriminating dream,hahaha,  and thought, What an 
irresistible story idea.
Here it is. Enjoy.

THE WAR ON DRUGS



1



Lydia Morrison enjoyed the smell and taste of fresh-brewed coffee. She 
couldn’t greet the morning without its eye-opening powers. She was thinking 
of making dark, buttered toast when the knock came at the door. “Police! 
Open up, or we’re coming in anyway.”

She went to the door on shaky legs and opened it.

They grabbed her. “You’re under arrest for the use of illegal narcotics.”

They cuffed her under protest. “But I didn’t do anything. I was only …”

“You have the right to remain silent,” began the burly cop. He continued 
reading the middle-aged woman her rights. She perked up her ears when he got 
to the part about being provided a lawyer, should she not be able to afford 
one.

She certainly wasn’t able—not on SSDI.

They shoved her into the paddy wagon and roared to the station.

“Hey!” she tapped the window. “I didn’t really do anything!”

Then she remembered. Anything she said could and would be used against her 
in a court of law.

She watched out the window. They turned down the wrong street for the police 
station. Where were they going?

In a minute, she found out, as her son, Andy, and her daughter, Linda, came 
out with their hands cuffed, their faces wreathed in confusion.

“Mom, what’s going on?” Andy, nearly twenty, asked as they shoved him in 
beside her.

“I … I guess I incriminated you. I’m sorry.”

“What did we do?” asked Linda, her big green eyes wide with fright. The 
eighteen-year-old girl had just moved into her apartment and was preparing 
to enter premed.Now, because of her mother’s lack of control, Linda would 
have a criminal record.

“I’m sorry, honey. It’s not like I intended to or anything.”

2

The booking took no time at all. Mug shots, fingerprints, interviews.

Who had given her and her son the cocaine? When had he taken it?

Andy exploded. “Cocaine! I’ve never done coke in my life. Ma, what have you 
done?”

“Describe the man who shared cocaine with you, and showed you how to smoke 
it.”

“Well, he was fair-haired. He had no name.”

“You mean he didn’t have a name that you remembered, or he didn’t introduce 
himself to you.”

She nodded.

“Are you aware that the oneironautic use of drugs is as illegal as if you’d 
done it in waking life? You’ve not only incriminated yourself, you’ve 
incriminated your children as well. Oh yes. We’ve picked up the singer Jerry 
Whiteside. You’ve incriminated him as well.”

“Jerry Whiteside? But I never met him. He’s my favorite singer, since I was 
a kid. He had nothing to do with any of this! And neither did my children. 
They’re law-abiding citizens. My kids don’t even drink!”

On the ride to the county jail, she learned that Jerry had been picked up 
for cocaine possession and use.

The newsman said, “It was learned that the Australian singer, while giving a 
performance in Newark, spent the night with a Lydia Morrison.” The kids 
looked at her in confusion.

“And during that time, they smoked rock cocaine. The singer denies all 
knowledge of these events, and disavows all knowledge of any concert in 
Newark or spending the night with any woman.”

“But I never met the man. I was only … It was just a …”



3

They were separated. Andy was put in the men’s side of the jail. Linda and 
her mother were put in cells far apart.

Her celly was in for murder.

“Who’d you kill?”

“My husband. Caught the creep cheating.”

“For real?”

Her celly glared. “Yes, for real. You a cop, or you writing a book?”

Lydia didn’t talk to her celly. She didn’t even ask her name.

Later that day, she met her court-appointed lawyer, a weak-mouthed dude who 
spoke to her as if he thought her guilty. When she looked at the defense 
lawyer, she knew she was going down.



4

Hardly anyone came to this kind of trial anymore. Only the co-accused and 
the judge, bailiff, court reporter and assorted lawyers were there.

It didn’t last a day. Mrs. Morrison watched her defense lawyer perform very 
badly. His arguments were weak, especially his main argument.

“Your Honor, Mrs. Morrison testified to the arresting officers and everyone 
who’ll listen long enough that she didn’t really do anything.”

“The use of cocaine, Mr. Stevens, is a crime, regardless how it came about.”

“Your Honor, I’d like to call the defendant to the stand, since there are no 
witnesses. No one saw her purchase drugs, or use them.”

“Call your witness, counsel.”

“Mrs. Morrison, please come to the stand.”

She ignored the aches and pains of osteoarthritis and got to her feet. She 
was escorted to the witness stand and sat in the chair.

“Tell the court what happened on January 16, 2065.”

“Nothing happened. It was an ordinary day. I’m unemployed due to disability. 
I have major depressive disorder to a debilitating degree. I’m being treated 
with medication. I’d just started a new medication that day. I came home 
from work. I had dinner, watched a little TV, called my kids to see how my 
son was liking college, and my daughter to see how she liked being on her 
own for the first time, and how she liked her new apartment.”

“The co-accused,” said the lawyer.

“Yes, sir. My children knew nothing …”

“Hold on, Mrs. Morrison, we’re coming to that. “What happened when you 
turned off the TV?”

“I went to bed.”

“Do you remember what you dreamed about?”

“Yes. I dreamed that Andy and Linda came home from a concert. I asked the 
kids if they were high. Linda said she’d enjoyed some marijuana, while Andy 
said he’d done some cocaine.”

“Mom!” Both kids looked at her, hurt in their eyes. The judge called for 
order and no further outbursts.

“Then what happened?”

“I wanted to join the kids. I wanted to get high with them. I was on a 
balcony. It was a warm night, nothing like January. There was a man with me 
and the kids. A friend of theirs, I suppose, though neither I nor they have 
seen him. My God, he was only a dream character.”

“Objection. The accused is aware of the law. Please instruct the witness 
that you are her defense, Mr. Stevens, not she.”

“Sustained,” said the judge.

“Please continue, Mrs. Morrison. What happened in the dream?”

“A man was there, and so were my kids. I got curious. I wanted to try 
cocaine, so he lit up some rocklike thing, and showed me how to smoke it.”

“Are you, in waking life, a smoker?”

“No.”

“In waking life, do you use illicit drugs?”

“No.”

“Do your children?”

“No.”

“Objection,” cried the prosecutor. “Andrew and Linda Morrison do not live in 
the home. Mrs. Morrison can’t possibly be aware of their waking or 
oneironautic activities.”

“Sustained. Please proceed on a different tack, councillor.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Mrs. Morrison, have you ever spent the night with the 
well-known singer, Jerry Whiteside?”

“No. I’ve never met the man. He’s just my favorite singer.”

“So, you couldn’t possibly have smoked cocaine with this man?”

“Objection!”

“Sustained. The court can make its own inferences, Councillor,” said the 
judge.


5



The kids had both been questioned, testifying they had no knowledge of the 
events till the cops arrested them for the activities they had engaged in 
during their mother’s dream.

In his closing statement, the prosecutor alluded to this, saying, “A long 
time ago, wiser men than I developed technologies that would give law 
enforcement officials an edge. A telepathic edge. Since crime begins in the 
mind before it is actually committed, these wise men devised a way to stop 
crime before it starts. Thus, our legal system provides the same penalty for 
crimes committed in dreams as it does for crimes committed in waking life. 
Furthermore, anyone the dreamer knows or imagines having committed the same 
or other criminal acts is also subject to the laws of the land. We take the 
war on drugs very seriously, as we do all criminal activity. Defense Council 
has claimed that Mrs. Morrison was only dreaming. A laughable argument, 
since that does not matter. I ask, Your Honor, that the criminals be 
remanded to the custody of the state prison.”

“It is so ordered,” said the judge, banging his gavel.



6

Lydia Morrison took the pipe. “Okay. Go for it,” said her dread-locked 
celly. She did as instructed, and felt a rush of pleasure.

“So, this is cocaine.” she whispered. Her celly kept an eye out for anyone 
walking by.

“Yup. How do you like it, grandma?” The young girl smiled at the older 
woman.

“It’s amazing. I could go dancing.”

“sssh. Keep ya  voice down, granny. Want to get  us busted?”

They both giggled. “Sorry, Amaretta. One thing, though. This is different 
than I dreamed.”

“Well, duh, granny, this is for real.” They both giggled.



Thea Ramsay
Wellness Coach
Herbalife Distributor
www.GoHerbalife.com/thea-ramsay/en-CA


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