Pusherman

Who really knows how pills are made?

I suppose there's got to be some sort of experimentation, a whole process in which the pharma bros mix together different chemicals and medicines and test them to see how they react to people (or lab rats, because testing on people is frowned upon for whatever reason) - if a pill is found to have promising effects, it and others like it are even more thoroughly vetted by more lab-coat-wearing mad pharmaceutical scientists and even more lab rats, until one or two different formulas are found to work. Then, the most effective pill with the least adverse side effects is chosen for marketing, and the company sells it to the highest bidder - that's how medicine must work, and how it has for a long time thanks to the free market.

For certain people in the industry, though, pill-making is still a complete mystery, a process akin to alchemy or advanced calculus - indecipherable, deeply secretive, impenetrably difficult, an endeavor that should just be given up to the professionals to handle. And I suppose that's all for the best.

After all, would dado even be dado if he knew how to make real medicine?


dado himself, in his top-secret bunker in an apartment somewhere in Paramus, NJ, pondered this question often as he waited for business offers. His mind was prone to wandering as he stroked his guinea pig and munched on his patented podado chips (available at dado fine groceries and military surplus store) - what would he be if he hadn't chosen parapharmacology, and instead chose its more mundane (and less important) sister? Would he even be as successful and famous as he was now? Would dado's fine enterprises even exist? Would "dado" be a household name?

This, dado found, was a terrifying thing to think about. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, staring at the screen of his laptop and waiting for a customer while running his fingers through Robert Mitchell's fur and reaching into the bag for another chip. And suddenly, without any warning, a customer did arrive…

Hello?
Is this Dado?

no
this is dado
sorry uppercase key broke

Cut the bullshit.
I've heard from some contacts that you're some sort of a genius. I need you to do something for me, and I'm willing to pay whatever for it

what u need

Can you make insulin?

yes dado is making insulation
u can get from dado first class catering and house insulations service


Insulin, dado. Not insulation.
for my daughter

who ur daughter is insulting?

> guest34752 has disconnected

dado sighed, leaning back in his folding chair and putting his hands behind his head. Robert Mitchell, finding the ground below him suddenly slanted and unsupported, scrambled for a grip on his business partner's polo shirt and climbed up. He eventually reached dado's head and took a rest on his face.

Customers like guest34752 and their diabetic daughter were nothing new to dado - the world of parapharmacology was a small one indeed, and anyone with a legitimate need for special medicines of any kind would eventually get led down the road to dado's esteemed practice. Since nobody but he really knew who he was, there was an abundance of rumors and legends attached to him - people said dado could make any medicine under the sun, that he was some sort of rogue agent within the pharmaceutical industry, that he was a supergenius who could cure any disease if you gave him a single sample of it - and he wasn't about to come out and set the record straight. After all, it was good for business.

One thing that left a bad taste in dado's mouth, however (other than the podado chips, which had probably gone stale last week) was biting off more than he could chew. dado was smarter than many people thought, and therefore knew that he wasn't really as bright as several others thought he was - and he definitely knew that he wasn't bright enough to handle any customers with real issues. He'd tried, when he was younger - it was a memory that he didn't really want to bring back up, and a situation he never wanted to be in again. dado silently hoped guest34752 got the medicine he needed, from someone more qualified - then, his computer pinged once more. Another customer.

Hey, this dado?

dado jumped up in his seat, sending Robert Mitchell flying off his face and onto the laptop's keyboard. With an irritated huff, the guinea pig skittered off the computer and into dado's lap.

dsklgghhtlkncx

wtf

sorry
hamster was on keyboard

Oh, no worries then
I've got something I need ur help with

what is

I need some stuff to give me an edge locally, if u know what I'm sayin
Something to really hook customers, and keep em coming to me
Could u make something like that?

u want thing that make customers hook, ok
i will make pill for u

Great, great. When should I expect the stuff?
you've got amazon prime, right?

yes
i will send to u in one week with amazon prime shipping

Thanks a lot. I'll paypal you when they get here

> williethespectre865 has disconnected

A pill to "hook" someone in…now there was something dado could do. It'd be easy to produce a product like that - he'd made medicine that did more than just "hook" people, and he'd done it flawlessly. All dado had to do, at this point, was package the pills and send them on their way - they were all but done!

Oh, right. He still had to make them.

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