[ WP ] Humans suddenly react to parsley with the same wide range of behaviour that cats exhibit to catnip ...

I glanced around furtively as I stepped through the sliding glass doors, out of the oppressive summer heat and into the refreshingly cool air of the store. Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I quickly scanned the registers for the familiar cashiers. An older Asian man, a bubbly teenage blonde... Perfect, no one I recognized! It seemed my plan to come at a different time had worked. Of course, it was n't over yet; I'd felt the crushing disappointment of unforeseen obstacles too many times to get complacent yet. Still, I could n't completely suppress the feeling of elation rising in my chest. 
 
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 Hurriedly, I scooped up a bright red hand basket and made my way to the spice aisle. I shuffled passed the name brand section without even a look; McCormick had long been washing their products to remove what I had after. At the end of the long row of shelves I found what I was looking for: an obscure Mexican spice brand that still somehow got away with selling unwashed herbs. `` Now let's see, where is the parsely,'' I mumbled to myself as I gazed at the rack. Nutmeg, poppy seeds, no that's not it. `` Damn it!'' I snarled, as I noticed the gap where my prize shoud've been. I'd waited two weeks for a restock and driven an hour for nothing! 
 
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 I felt my heart pounding at the rage swelled within me. Turning back the way I came, I fumbled in my pocket for my phone. Maybe there was another store I could try: Palm Bay, Malabar, Melbourne, Viera... maybe Cocoa? No, I'd hit that one up last week. Maybe I could backtrack south, there were a few in Vero. Lost in concentration, a sudden `` May I help you?'' jolted me back to my surroundings. A guy my age was next to me. Hiding my desperation as best I could, I stammered, `` Just looking for some... ( shit think fast! )... Badia brand smoked paprika.'' I could n't look him in the eye; I stared at the dull brown floor in shame. 
 
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 `` Check the foreign aisle; it's number 8,'' he responded without a trace of scorn. Reinvigorated, I strolled with wide steps to the suggested location. The label immediately caught my eye; there it was! Now ebullient, I counted the bottles. `` One, four... six!'' That was the most I'd ever found in one spot since the de facto ban. A few news stories on kids abusing a common ingredient and suddenly everyone is up in arms. The fresh stuff was pulled within a month. `` Well they did n't stop me!'' I think victoriously. Usually I'd be cautious and buy only a couple. After all, who needs that much parsely? `` Whatever,'' I grunted flippantly as I stuffed all six bottles into my basket. 
 
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 After grabbing a few extra items: flour, carrots, chicken; to divert suspicion, I anxiously approached the checkout line. I figured the teenage girl would be least likely to discern my true intentions, so I entered her line. We exchanged greetings and I placed the bottles on the belt, label side down. Ugh, why ca n't there be a self checkout line! She scanned the bottles and I smiled feebly. `` That's a lot of parsely,'' she observed wrly, as her face twisted into an incredulous smile. `` Uhh... yeah... just making some chicken pot pie,'' I lied, failing to sound convincing. Not my finest performance. 
 
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 `` Haha, riiiight!'' she chuckled. Maybe she was in on the secret too, part of the clandestine fellowship of parsely addicts. A group scarcely attested to except in obscure internet forums. `` Sorry, it's all mine!'' I thought sardonically. I scanned my card to pay, hoping I would have sufficent funds; nothing could be more embarrassing than coming up short. After a tense few seconds, `` Approved'' flashed across the screen. I exhaled and happily said goodbye. `` Have fun,'' I heard as I rushed to the exit. Relief was so close. 
 
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 Nearly jogging, I pushed through the doors into the parking lot. The blast of hot, sticky air felt like a wet sweater, but even that could n't slow me down. Spotting my car, I raced over and jumped in, wasting no time to start the ignition and peel out. Not much longer now; I sped home. Finally arriving, I flung open the front door. The mortar and pestle was on the counter. Open, shake, grind, the ritual was complete. My cat Gus was at my side, as eager as I. 
 
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 Dividing the dose and inhaling, the effects were immediate. A warm rush radiated from my stomach. The bliss overpowered me as the sunlight streaming through the window became a diaphanous, irridescent ribbon. I batted at it, reveling in the fleeting euphoria I'd fought hard to obtain. As I rolled around on the velvety carpet, I became cognizant of a sedate, purring voice. `` Thanks man, I owe you one.''
