Said women recently had knee surgery, and while she's up and walking during the day, come night time, her knee hurts like a bitch. And so she has resorted to popping an occasional morphine pill when the pain gets unbearable.
"You know", she said. "I don't think I'll ever become a drug addict, but if I do, I bet I would grow obese in no time."
"Oh", I said, "why's that?"
"I get the munchies when I'm on drugs," she said matter-of-factly. "And. it. is. not. pretty."
The night before she had taken a pill, gone to bed and next thing she remembers was the feeling of toppling over. Turns out she had sleepwalked into the kitchen in her morphine haze, where she suddenly snapped out of it and found herself standing by the sink.
"And you know, what I was doing?", she asked.
"No, tell me", I said, although I didn't expect whatever she'd done to be half as good as it turned out to be.
"I was spreading butter on a piece of toast", she said. "With a dish washing brush. There was butter on the bristles and all."
Apparently she had found slices of toast on the floor too, but no word if and how they'd been buttered.