The Chevy Impala reflecting the overcast day through its faded silver paint, turned into a geriatric grey color that drew no interest. That was perfect for the occupant, Tim Nunn (9C), who spent most of his day driving around to different doctor offices for the highly prized SCRIPS. Bypassing insurance forms and referrals, Tim picked on non-descript Internal Medicine physicians who lacked a heavy patient backlog. Hitting the inner-city medical facilities that employed transient young doctors looking for experience so that someday they could have their own practice, Tim preyed on these naive humanitarians. Well versed in medical ailments and pharmaceuticals, Mr. Nunn would enter these establishments with convincing stories and acting finesse that tricked the young doctors into writing painkiller prescriptions for their suffering patient. Changing names, doctors, and cities, Tim could grab a half dozen SCRIPS on a good day and be off to 60 different pharmacies in a month to fill them. He earned an ample income by taking 3/4 of his pills and wholesaling them to select buyers who in turn pulled a profit on the street. Tim was a clever phantom drug dealer, but he made one mistake; he allowed the monkey to climb aboard. In the beginning, his college education gave him the people skills and knowledge to pull off this charade because Tim lacked the ability to take directions from others. “If I’m to be told, I’m down the road.” His skill at his trade was remarkable. He charmed his way past receptionists and his looks got him to the front of the line often. His rehearsed ailments and suggestions as to what medicines (the high value street drugs) worked the best for him. In a week, less expenses, Tim could pull in 2 grand cash. He knew the lax doctors and researched recently divorced doctors who needed constantly returning patients to build up the kitty again. Tim Nunn died on Friday at the age of 48 from long term drug abuse. His monkey finally broke him.