The national average recovery rate for Meth is thought to be between 16-20%.

X X X

Desiree had put up a big wall-to-wall poster that said "Toast for Change!" Beneath it she had a table with eleven champagne glasses full of non-alcoholic Sparkling Cider. Out of the twenty five people that had started this program, only ten had made it to the end. The eleventh glass was for Danny, the beautiful strange boy who had been here through it all. Desiree pulled him aside to applaud him for sticking with his friend. There were families that abandoned their addicted children, spouses, and parents and here was this fifteen-year-old boy who had never given up. She told him he was amazing, but he brushed it off with a small laugh. He said she was the amazing one. She got people over their addictions. She was the real hero here. Desiree laughed and hugged him. Then, she spoke to her assembly.

"Everyone, as your last day in this program, I have arranged a party of sorts," Desiree said cheerily. "I would like each of you to come up here, take a glass, and make a toast for change. Now, who would like to go first?"

With the same excitement and determination she had shown on her first day, Clarice spoke up first. She went to the front of the room, standing in front of the table and shamelessly before them, with her thin fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass. "My toast for change…" she was quiet for a moment, soft little smile on her mouth. "I toast my baby! When I get out of here, I'm going back to court and I'm going to get my baby. I'm going to fix her face. I changed for her."

There was a smattering of applause for her.

Then, Desiree tipped her head at Danny until he smiled awkwardly and stepped up to the plate.

"Well, I'm not actually an addict, but I've been here though most of this program save Steps Four through Seven when Desiree asked me to step out." He smiled at them. "So I have no real change in myself to toast, but I would love to toast all of you. You are amazing people. You made it through this. I think you changed me."

His face morphed into a beautiful smile that made Desiree's heart sing. She had never seen such a wonderful dedicated and hopeful young man. Meth was a hard drug to come back from and she knew he knew that, but he had never given up. His presence had done a lot for the group, she could tell, because the applause for him was even louder than it had been for Clarice.

Everyone loved Danny.

Surprisingly, Sam volunteered to go next. She stepped up in front of the room, but did not immediately take a glass. She turned and looked right at Danny, violet eyes gleaming like part of a misplaced sunset. "I want to toast Danny. He's the real reason I managed to come clean." She stared at Danny, eyes big and sad but also hopeful and happy. "If it wasn't for him, I would have died out there on the street. I toast Danny."

Danny's face blushed cutely pink and his big blue eyes looked surprised. Then, he smiled at her so beautifully that it was like the sun rising, like a spread of white wings, like the first steps of a baby—pure and spectacular. "It was all you, Sam," he whispered.

The applause for Sam was even louder than the applause for Danny, but Desiree figured that was only because Danny was leading it.

Everyone loved Danny, even Sam.

…

The next day, they could leave. Some would be going to a halfway house, others would be going home, and some would go out into the big wide world on their own. Sam was afraid to leave. She was afraid to meet her family, to face them. She was afraid not to see Clarice every morning, noon, and night.

"Danny," Sam whispered. "What if they hate me?"

"They don't," he said softly. "I've already talked to them."

"And they still love me?"

"They never stopped."

"What about Tucker?"

Danny hesitated. "You'll have to ask him yourself. He's picking us up."

"What about your parents? Don't they hate me for hurting you?"

"No."

"What about—?"

"Sam, would you stop, please? Everything is going to be okay." Danny reached down and grabbed her hand, threading their fingers together. He smiled at her reassuringly.

Clarice shouldered her backpack and tucked the picture of her baby into her bra. "You two going to be okay?"

"We'll be fine. Are you sure you don't need a place to stay?" Danny asked Clarice.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I'm going to the halfway house with all the other crazies. Then, I'm going to get my baby." She smiled. That baby girl was the world to her and all she had was one picture. "But, I would like to swap numbers."

Danny smiled. "Of course." He gave Clarice his cell phone number and let her write the number of the halfway house in the palm of his hand. "I'll call you when Sam get's a phone and give you the number. Actually, Clarice, I'd really like to get you a phone too."

She grinned. "Thanks, Danny, you're so sweet, but I'll be okay."

"You can call me any time," Danny offered, "if you need anything."

Clarice chuckled. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. Really."

"Please, promise you'll call if you need anything."

"Okay, okay, I will," she said and then muttered, "I don't think you'll shut up otherwise."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Clarice was all innocent smiles and a mischievous gleam to her eyes.

Danny narrowed his eyes at her, but didn't say anything. He picked up Sam's bag and led the girls from the room with the throng of other people who were leaving. Clarice gave him one last smile in the parking lot and then pushed off into the crowd. Danny waved goodbye to her. Sam pulled her hand from his, raced after Clarice, caught up with her, and Danny watched them desperately hugging each other and trying very hard not to cry. Then, they pulled away from each other and Sam returned to Danny's side.

She took a deep breath and murmured, "I'm ready."

"Good," Danny said and led her to where Tucker was parked and waiting.

…

Tucker had a neat little station wagon in blood-red with soft leather seats. It wasn't his dream car, but he had learned to settle his dreams. Since his addiction, he had a different perspective on the world. It was a bleaker, but also somehow more hopeful. He stopped dreaming of dating a cheerleader. He started thinking about how he could save them from the in crowd, from the consuming popularity that would eventually destroy them if they weren't strong enough. He saw the world that way now—threatening but also full of wonder.

Danny opened the passenger side door and held Sam's hand while she slipped into the seat. Then, he tossed her bag trunk and jumped in the backseat. "Hey Tucker. How're you doing?" Danny asked.

"Good, good," Tucker said. He put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot.

Sam turned in her seat, looking past Danny's head at the image of the rehab center. Her face was white ghost-pale and she looked afraid. Danny touched her hand and gave her a small smile. She tried to return it, but couldn't. Instead, she turned to face Tucker and offered him a weak curve of the mouth that might have once been her worst Goth smile.

"Hi Tuck," she forced out. Then, her eyes welled up with tears and she let out a sob. "Do you hate me?"

Tucker put on his blinker without saying a word and pulled over into the shoulder of the road. Then, he reached across the consul and wrapped her in a devastating hug that crushed all the air from her lungs. She clutched Tucker tightly and sobbed her heart out. Danny sat back in the seat, averting his eyes, feeling like he was intruding on a private moment.

"Sam, it's okay. I don't hate you. I don't even blame you. It was my own fault. I should have been stronger. I should have said no," he whispered.

"But," she sobbed. "It was all me. It was my fault."

"It wasn't," Tucker whispered. "I don't blame you."

Sam could speak anymore. She just sat beside him, wrapped in his arms, sobbing her heart out. After what felt like an eternity of crying and sobbing, Danny reached over the seats and wrapped his arms around both of them.

"Hey, guys," Danny said softly. "It's okay. We're together again and we're going to make it through."

Tucker smiled up at Danny, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"You want me to drive, Tuck?" Danny offered.

"No, I'm fine," he said. "Besides, you're a terrible driver."

Danny laughed. It was a deep contagious sound that rattled deep into Tucker's core. It felt like forever since he had heard his friend laugh. He felt his own mouth curve into a smile in response. Beside him, Sam let out a small girlish giggle and then pressed her small white hands to her mouth. Danny reached around her and pulled her hands down from her mouth, freeing her laughter and smiles. They were all laughing, sitting in Tucker's blood-colored mom-van.

It wasn't the same as it used to be, but it was getting close.

…

Danny had intended to only walk Sam to the door, say hello to her parents, and make sure they didn't react badly, but once they got to the door, she broke down. She clutched his hand, begged him to come in with her, and he finally agreed.

Tucker didn't come in with them, but he promised to catch lunch or dinner with them tomorrow.

The Manson house was a beautiful old-fashioned redbrick Colonial with white shutters and trim and a glossy black door with a big brass lion's head doorknocker. The last time Danny was here, it felt as if the lion's head was snarling at him, but today it was simply smiling.

Mrs. Manson opened the door eagerly, as if she had been poised to spring just on the other side of it. She was wearing plain jeans and a pale pink blouse—no pearls, no jewelry, no shoes. Mr. Manson was sitting on the couch, clutching the paper in his hands. It was so wrinkled and smudged that he must have been holding it and sweating for hours.

Danny smiled at them. "Mr. and Mrs. Manson," he said gently, "Sam." He put his hand in the small of her back and pushed her gingerly into the house, closing the door quietly behind them and setting her bag on the foyer table.

"Hi Mom. Hi Dad." Sam's voice was shaking.

Danny pressed his hand into her lower back, pushing her forward. Mrs. Manson let out a cry and rushed forward to envelope Sam in her arms. The two hugged and sobbed and cried. Mr. Manson got off the couch and came over to Danny.

"Thank you, Daniel," Mr. Manson said.

"For what?"

"For bringing her home. You're the only one who never gave up on her, who always believed in her. Thank you for that."

Danny smiled absently at the mother-daughter moment before him. "I couldn't give up on her. She's my best friend."

Mr. Manson put a hand on Danny's shoulder and then hugged him awkwardly. "Thank you," he murmured.

Danny didn't see any point in continuing this strange waltz of 'Thank you' and 'It was nothing' so he just said, "You're welcome, Mr. Manson." Then, he cast one more look at Sam, decided she didn't need him right now while she was safely wrapped in her mother's arms, and backed out the door. Before the door swung completely shut, he saw Mr. Manson going to embrace the two most important women in his life. Smiling to himself, Danny walked the two blocks back to his house feeling happier than he had in a long time.

It never occurred to him that she might try to leave home in search of drugs.

But, she didn't.

…

Having dinner with Tucker the next day almost turned out to be more of a family circus than a catch-up reunion, but Jazz intervened and said that the three friends deserved some time alone. She managed to single-handedly reign in the parents, an astonishing feat even for her.

They met at the Nasty Burger. Sam stood outside for a moment, staring up at the sign. It had been fixed and all the letters glowed bright perfect cherry-red. Danny put his arm around her back and guided her inside. Tucker held the door open and let it slam shut behind them.

Talk about an entrance!

All heads swiveled in their direction and a murmur filled the room. A burger fell on the ground with a splat.

"Let's grab our favorite table," Danny said with a smile as if he didn't realize people were pointing and whispering. Surprisingly, Tucker didn't seem to care either. Strange since she remembered her friends being all about popularity and trying to get in with the in crowd. Sam, on the other hand, wanted to shrink inside her skin and hide from everyone.

"Um, guys, everyone is looking at us," Sam whispered.

Tucker took a hold of Sam's other elbow and towed her forward with Danny on her other side. Danny and Sam slid into one side of the booth seat and Tucker wedged himself into the other. The boys put their heads together, whispering and chuckling. Sam sat back, watching them, feeling like she had missed out on a lot.

"So, Sam, a salad, per usual?" Danny asked cheerfully. "We're going to get burgers."

She tried to smile, but it came out a little twisted. "Yeah, that'd be great, but I don't have any money."

Tucker half-stood up from the table. "How can you not have any money? You're Sam. We're the ones who don't usually have money."

She stared down at her hands where they were folded in her lap. "My dad was worried I'd go out and buy drugs."

Tucker lowered his green eyes. He remembered that—the loss of trust, the doubt, the fear. Danny was the only one who had never once thought he would turn back to the addiction. That thought brought a smile to Tucker's face as he watched his friend.

Danny hugged her gingerly with one arm around her narrow shoulders. "Don't worry about it. I've got it," he said with a soft reassuring smile. Then, he and Tucker walked away to the counter to order and Sam was left alone at the table. Everyone started whispering and the voices cut through her like countless knives.

"That's Sam. Man, I thought she was dead."

"Yeah, I heard she was selling herself. My brother said he knows a guy who bought a piece of her ass."

"No way, Sam Manson? My sister works at the clinic. She said Sam just got out."

"Meth is some nasty shit. It killed my cousin."

"I hear they do anything for a hit, even get fucked in the ass."

"She sold herself, idiot, in some cheap motel downtown."

"I heard she hurt Danny… a long time ago…"

"Are you surprised? She's the one that hooked Tucker."

"No way! Really?"

"Yeah, Danny wanted it kept on the quiet. It's some big secret."

"But she hurt Danny, too? What'd she do to him?"

"I'm not sure. He wouldn't tell anybody."

Sam lifted her hands and pressed them over her ears, trying to block out the voices. She felt like screaming, like crying, like running out the swinging glass doors to never return. Her throat was all knotted up like there was a baseball in it. Her eyes burned with tears that tried to work their way out from beneath her creamy lids. Then, Danny and Tucker slid back into their seats with three trays of food—one green salad, two juicy burgers, and fries with plenty of ketchup.

"Sam?" Danny asked, but he didn't give her any time to respond. He put his arms around her and drew her into a strong warm embrace. "Don't listen to them," he murmured into her hair. "They don't know anything." He flashed his blue eyes at the people that were staring at them, enraged but also hurt. His friends had been through Hell and the Hell just never ended. If it wasn't the drugs, it was the people. Yet somehow they all wanted to wrap him up in roses, saying what a good person he was for staying with Tucker and continuing to look for Sam when they were making fun of his friends in the next breath. "Tuck, let's go to the park and eat."

"Way ahead of you, man."

Tucker gathered up their food, put the trays back, and shouldered open the door. Danny, his arms wrapped securely around Sam, followed. The door slammed shut so loudly that everyone inside jumped. They continued to talk about the trio, but at least they didn't have to listen to it anymore.

Danny eased Sam down on a bench in the park and knelt at her feet, touching her knees gingerly. Tucker plopped down beside her, rustling the bags of fast food in his lap.

"Don't listen to them, Sam," Danny said tenderly. "they don't know what they're talking about."

"But they do…" she whispered. "They knew about me… about what I've done—" her voice broke "—to you and Tucker."

Danny cupped her face in his hands. "Sam, it doesn't matter what they say. All that matters is that we've forgiven you and we have. Just forget them. You never used to care about what other people thought of you. Where'd that go?"

"But…" She ran her hand over his damaged shoulder. "I hurt you. I hurt both of you."

Danny let out a deep sigh and sat back on his haunches. There wasn't anything he could say to help her and he knew it. He glanced at Tucker, speaking to him silently with his ice blue eyes. Tucker nodded slightly, stood up, gathered the food, and walked over to another bench. He unwrapped his burger, crinkling the wrapper, and took a big bite. This was Danny's moment. Tucker didn't need to be there so he wasn't going to intrude.

Danny cupped Sam's face in his hands again, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Sam, we don't blame you," he said softly. "I don't blame you." Then, he gently kissed her cheek. Her skin was rough and dry, scared and scaly, but he didn't care. "Actually, my feelings for you are the farthest from blame."

"Farthest from blame?" Sam lifted her hands and pressed her fingers to her cheek. She was blushing cutely.

"Yeah," Danny said with a smile. It was clear she didn't completely understand his actions, but that was okay. It wasn't time yet. "Hey Tuck! Are you going to share that food?"

Tucker stood up, grumbling to himself good naturedly. "Go away. Come here. Go away. Come here. Jeez, make up your mind!" Then, he laughed.

X X X

A few weeks passed and Sam only got better, but like Tucker she was so different from the person she used to be. She started wearing jeans and soft low-cut shirts like the ones Danny's old crush Paulina always wore. She was afraid of people, of herself, of making Danny turn his back on her so she tried to be everything he wanted. Danny was troubled by these changes in Sam where he had never been bothered by the changes in Tucker. It felt like Sam was hiding something, hiding herself.

Danny was on his way to Sam's house now, hands shoved deep in his pockets and head ducked. He let out his breath in a rush and glanced up as he passed someone on the street.

It was a young girl with short dark hair pulled up into a sloppy ponytail high on the back of her head. She had condemning take-on-the-world eyes and wore purples-black lipstick on her lips. She was wearing thick-soled combat boots, black lace leggings and a pleated red-and-black plaid skirt with a mess of chains around her hips like some kind of belt and a red tank top cut raggedly with scissors just below the end of her ribcage. She also had a bellybutton piercing and black-painted fingernails. She didn't smile at him, but she didn't frown either—just a simple glance that said she saw him but didn't care much about him.

Danny continued to stare after her even as he knocked on the Manson's door, ignoring the brass lion's head doorknocker. Sam pulled it open and asked him what he was looking at when he didn't immediately turn to face her.

"I saw somebody who reminded me of you… before you got afraid," he said softly.

"Before I got afraid?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah," he said softly, still staring down the street. Then, he turned to face her. "Look, I'll show you."

Danny grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs to her bedroom. She hadn't changed the décor in there—it was still her—the canopy bed draped with purple velvet, the black curtains, the wrought-iron bed frame, the bookcases full of aged books on such topics as the living dead and corpse bothering and ghosts and horror, the old wardrobe full of black and purple clothing. It was all still her, the old her. She had all her new clothes and a cheap paperback in a cardboard box on top of the dresser, as if waiting to throw this impersonation of her out.

Immediately, Danny went to the place where he knew she hid her photo album—a big leather-bound thing with gold-leaf in old calligraphy in typical Goth-Sam fashion. He pushed her down on her bed and sat beside her, holding the big album in his lap.

"Look," he said. "This used to be you."

"Used to be?" Sam repeated.

He trailed his finger over photograph after glossy photograph of them together—Tucker looking like a geek, Danny looking heartbreakingly normal, Sam looking Gothic and dangerous. Her hair was short, her mouth was painted with purple lipstick, and her eyes glowed with life. She was wearing combat boots, leggings, a skirt, and a belly tank top. She had a non-smiling expression on in almost every picture. Her expression was simple—she saw the camera but she didn't care.

The old her…

"Sam," Danny whispered. "I miss the old you. I know you can't be exactly that person anymore. You've grown up, you've changed, you've been through Hell, but I miss that person… I wish you could have stayed the way you were. I wish we all could have…"

"Danny," she whispered and reached out. She held his shoulders, feeling the scar she had given him. "I'm sorry, but I'm… afraid…"

"Why?" he sounded desperate. "You never used to be. You were never afraid of anything."

"I might lose you," she whispered.

"Lose me?"

"There's nothing about me that would keep you here anymore. I'm afraid you'll leave."

"I see," he whispered, "My fault…"

"No!"

Danny wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his chest. "Sam, I spent so long looking for you, searching for you. I finally have you back! I finally found you. I'm not going to leave!" His back trembled, his entire body trembled. "I'm not going anywhere," he repeated.

"But why?"

He hesitated, voice sticking in his throat. "Because I…" he shook his head and said instead, "You're my best friend."

Sam pushed him back and looked into his face. "What were you going to say?"

Danny put his hand to the side of her face, feeling the scar where she had pulled all the skin off in search of bugs. He stared into those violet eyes of hers. They had life again, hope but also fear. "I love you, Sam," he said finally.

Her eyes widened and he saw the pulse in her throat jump. "You what?"

"I love you."

"Why?" Sam bolted to her feet, hurling herself away from him as if burned. "I hurt you! I hurt my family! I got Tucker addicted! I sold myself for drugs! I'm a terrible person! Why would you love me? No! How could you possibly love me?"

Danny stood as well, closing the space between them.

She batted his hands away, eyes full of tears. "No! Tell me why! Tell me how!"

Danny persisted until he managed to get her in his arms. She fought him for a moment, rigid and tense, but then she collapsed in a sobbing mess against him. He slipped to his knees, cradling her in his lap. He rested his cheek on her hair. "Sam, there's no reason. You're important to me. I think I've loved you forever… since we were kids," he said. "When you were gone, all I could think about was getting you back. I couldn't live without you."

She sobbed hopelessly into his chest, tears soaking through his t-shirt.

"Does that make you unhappy?" His voice was low and soft and insecure.

She shook her head. "No, I just… I can't believe it…"

Danny hooked his fingers beneath her chin, lifted her face to his, and whispered, "Believe it." Then, he gently kissed her lips. Unlike the time he had kissed her cheek in the park, her skin was smooth and soft beneath his fingertips. Her lips were even softer, like the petals of flower. She made a soft sound against his mouth and slipped her fingers through is soft onyx hair, pulling him closer.

"Danny, thank you," she whispered when they finally broke for air. "That means… a lot to me."

"I'm glad," he murmured and gently hugged her.

"Hey, can you step out for a moment?"

Danny's eyes widened and he looked a little panicked, as if she was throwing him out.

"I want to change," Sam said with a small nervous smile.

He grinned back at her, touched her hair, and ducked out of her room.

Sam went to her old-fashioned wardrobe, opened the double doors, and peered in at all the black and purple. Then, taking a deep breath, she peeled off her jeans and clinging shirt and tossed them into the cardboard box on her dresser. She put on a black tank top with pale white embroidery on it in swirling windswept shapes, a soft dark purple blouse left unbuttoned, and a knee-length gauzy black layered skirt. Then, she went to her vanity, put some smooth purple lipstick on her mouth, and scraped some of her hair up into a ponytail high on her head. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, took her hair down, and wiped off the lipstick. Then, she felt good. She felt like herself.

She didn't smile at her reflection—she wasn't that kind of girl—but she did smile at Danny when she opened the door.

X X X

Sam had been clean for two years. Through everything—the nights she sat up crying for a hit, the times nightmares of selling herself woke her at night, the times she wanted so badly to slip away—Danny stayed with her. He was sweet and caring, all shining baby blue eyes and deep dark onyx hair, and smiles. He was always smiling. She felt as if he was her Grim Reaper, looming over her but keeping her alive when she otherwise would have been dead.

Danny and Sam saw Tucker once a week. They met for dinner at a little Chinese restaurant with murals of deep Koi ponds and gorgeous gardens and sweet women with slanted eyes in silky Chinese dresses adorned the walls and where the waitresses barely spoke English. They tried everything on the menu, mispronouncing things left and right and spending hours laughing and talking. Tucker was well off. He had a girlfriend, a sweet once-cheerleader with big doe-brown eyes and chestnut tresses. She had a bad home life and looked at the world much in the same way Tucker did. They were a good match, but Tucker never brought her to dinner with him. The weekly dinner with Danny and Sam was just for them, but he by no means banned her from his friends. It was just… the dinner was for them.

A few weeks ago, they had heard from Clarice again.

She sent them another long letter and some new pictures of her baby girl. The child was beautiful. She had soft platinum blonde hair that rarely lasted past the age of three and beautiful big jade-green eyes framed by thick dark lashes and a pretty candy-pink mouth with a neat little scar going from her lip to just beneath her nose. Clarice had named her Danielle, after Danny so that she would always remember the beautiful young man who had touched her life and the mistakes she had made with Meth.

Sometimes, late at night, Clarice called Danny and spoke to him in whispers, crying because she had nightmares just like Sam. Danny always sat at the edge of the bed he shared with Sam in their little apartment with his head resting on his hand and his naked pale back gleaming in the moonlight, listening to her until she had cried herself out.

Sam loved to watch him during those conversations with Clarice. She loved listening to his voice, so soft and sweet and caring, making everyone he spoke to feel like they were the only person that mattered in the world. She loved watching the muscles in his back ripple as they alternately tensed and relaxed. Sometimes, he fell asleep with the phone still in his hand.

They normally met Clarice for some occasion or another at least once a month, but lately she had been busy with her daughter. She always found time to put in a call to see how they were doing, though. It was always wonderful to hear from Clarice. She had so much life in her and so much life left to go.

"Danny?" Sam whispered in the darkness.

"Hmm?" He was half-asleep.

"Thank you."

"For what, sweetheart?"

"For everything," Sam whispered. She draped her arm across his bare waist and spooned against his naked back. "For never giving up on me… even when I didn't deserve it…"

That appeared to wake him up. He rolled over, blue eyes glowing in the dark, and embraced her tightly. "I always knew you'd make it," he whispered.

Her violet eyes welled up with tears, but she choked them back. "You're wonderful."

He smiled and his eyes started to slide closed. He had been up late the night before, holding her while she cried and remembered the seedy hotel room where she smoked and fucked. He deserved his rest. Sam leaned over his scarred shoulder and kissed him gingerly on the nose, enjoying the strange expression that crossed his sleeping face. Then, she snuggled down against his warm back, stroking the soft skin with her fingertips.

"You saved me, Danny," she whispered. "You never doubted me… not even once…"

X X X

Oh, I own nothing except my plot and Clarice.

Ending options:

1.) There's a one-shot with an open ending, leaving it up to your imagination. Not Even Once, the original version.

2.) Danny can find her and bring her back and she can go through rehab, but fail. In that case, look for Not Even Once: Failure Version.

3.) Danny can find her and bring her back and she can go through rehab and succeed and everyone lives moderately happily ever after. In that case, you've just read it.

…

Everyone MUST go to this website! www. montana meth. org If anyone is too lazy to remove the spaces, there's a link in my profile. But I have personally SEEN the sick shit Meth does to people. Watch the commercials, read the print ads, and look at the pictures!

And by all means, spread the word!

Questions, comments, concerns? (Oh, reviews telling me I'm fucked up for writing this will be ignored completely, so if that's what you're going to say don't even bother reviewing.)