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In yet another instance of Voice readers getting what they pay for, the cover story of this week's issue is about one woman's quest to vanquish a truly troubling addiction:

I am lurking in a stall in the bathroom at work, preparing to feed my addiction. Wait. I hear someone. They're washing their hands. I pause, keeping quiet. My mouth begins to water. What's taking them so long? You just need to squirt a drop of soap into your hands and rinse. Squirt and rinse. And wipe. OK, squirt, rinse, and wipe. There's nothing difficult about that procedure. But to any junkie attempting to scratch an itch, no one seems capable of getting it right. When the coast is clear, I eagerly dip my hand into the pocket of my long, blue trench coat.

What will Jessica Jones pull out? A baggie and a syringe? A crack pipe? A plain-jane one-hitter? Well, no.

I grasp a box, yank it out, and then spew a portion of the contents into my hand. I shove the pieces in my mouth. As they cascade down my esophagus, I feel the substance disperse into my bloodstream. An unmatchable state of euphoria ensues. The high lasts about 45 seconds. Once the feeling begins to subside, I exit the stall and look in the mirror. That was one good pack of Milk Duds, I think as I gaze at my reflection. Time to get back to work.

Time to get back to work indeed.

Repeat After Us: In 2007 I Will Stop Eating Candy [Voice]