Would you rather sit for a nice Thanksgiving meal with Bags, or wake up hungry and cold from a suboxone stupor to find that the Coke can (which you'd been heating your hot water in off the heat from your neighbor's piping thru the bars of your studio apartment's front window) had broke in half when you used it to cook down some Tylenol 3s, and you were going to have to page Father or Meemaw for studio money again?
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