Woman Learns Her Baby Worth Its Weight In Meth

Story by Egon Sinclair 

| Published Dec 15, 2009

Although a mother's love is often regarded as a priceless commodity, a recent black market transaction has finally quantified the abstract concept.

Last Tuesday, local junkie Kylee Roane successfully bartered her 2-day-old son for approximately 3.25 kilos of methamphetamine. This indisputable proof that a child is worth his or her weight in meth shocked law enforcement officials, overanxious news-watching parents and advocates of the gold standard alike.

"When the doctor handed me a happy, healthy 7.16-pound baby boy, I was overjoyed," Roane reported. "I thank God for this little miracle every day. Well, actually, I only thanked him yesterday, but Mommy's been on a helluva trip since then."

As of press time, Roane still hadn't named the infant-turned-meth-coupon, as she "didn't want to get too attached to the little guy." Additionally, Roane claimed she was "pretty much guaranteed to get knocked up again anyway once I stuff next month's pay check into a light bulb."

Raymond Jules, an area meth peddler, was more than happy to take the baby off Roane's hands, claiming the exchange to be a better deal than "two dozen blow jobs, even from a tweaker with no teeth."

Although the transaction was later described by both parties involved as "smoother than this fuckin' table, man, this fuckin' table," there were a few initial hiccups.

"Before we weighed the little tyke to see what he was worth, I wanted to brush all the translucent spiders off of him," Roane said. "But then I thought, 'Jules is too dumb to notice the spiders, and if there's enough they gotta weigh a few more grams, right?'"

Jules responded to the spider question with a string of slanderous accusations, most notably that Roane was "acting like a crazy bitch." He also insisted Roane remove her son's diaper before weighing him, as the child "shit a few hundred dollars in there if you know what I mean."

However, both issues soon became moot points. Roane was forced to rely on her child's birth certificate to prove his weight, as the infant proved far too fussy for Jules' digital scale to get an accurate reading.

"Turns out converting pounds to grams wasn't that big of a deal," remarked Jules, cradling a pair of 8 mm handguns. "I just did it the old fashioned way: pencil and paper. Kylee used her fingernails and forearm, but we both got the same answer, so it's all good."

Jules attributed his metric system prowess to the fact the drug trade remains one of the few sectors in America "where people actually use that shit."