"Human beings have been harming themselves for eons," says Dr. Hal Leonard, the head psychiatrist of NDG's Kevorkian Medical Center. "However, ours is one of the few societies that has made ritualized self mutilation a fashion statement. It started with the so-called emo scene, whose adherents would often cut their arms and legs with razor blades. This practice of self-mutilation has spread to other scenes, including Montreal's rave community. However, not only are ravers mutilating themselves, I've heard of several instances in which they've mutilated each other."

Dozen of disfigured party goers have walked through Dr. Leonard's doors. "They come seeking treatment. They know that cutting themselves is a sign of mental illness. They don't know how to reconcile their destructive impulses with the sheer feeling of joy they get when they carve the name of their favorite DJ into their thighs."

Shane Garneau is intimately familiar with the pleasure of self-destruction. "I've been cutting myself for years. Every time I listen to Skrillex, I lie down on the ground and shove a razor blade right across my wrist. It's blissful," says Shane. "A couple years ago, my friends started cutting themselves too. And last fall, we all started cutting each other at the parties we went too. Whenever a really good DJ hits the dance floor, if the songs he's playing are amazing, we'll take out our razor blades and start slashing each other as we dance. Pain, in small doses, leads to pleasure. If it wasn't for the nasty scars that cutting leaves behind, I'd never want to stop. Neither would my friends. It's just too much fun."

That's what worries Dr. Leonard. "I believe that Montreal's promoters need to step up and get involved. They have to tell their party goers that cutting themselves might be fun, but it isn't healthy," says Dr. Leonard. "Ravers won't listen to doctors, but maybe they'll listen to promoters."

John Spanner, the head of Canada's Human Rights Court, says he's never seen a case quite like it. "It's unique, that's for sure. This case is a perfect example of how progressive our country is." says John. "It highlights the tension that currently exists between sexual equality and religious freedom. If a sex club employs a human toilet, can the toilet's religious beliefs be used to determine who can and can't piss in its mouth? That's what the HRC has to determine in the month ahead."

The trouble started when Jeanette Lachance attended the Red Curtain BDSM sex club last January. "I've been a patron of the Red Curtain for years, but the club was sold recently, and Charles Darnakov -- the new owner -- decided to renovate," says Jeanette. "He replaced the regular toilets with human toilets, coprophiles and urophiles who enjoy being dehumanized. Which is cool, I'm down with that. The problem is, Alex Rothstein, the toilet I got, was a devout Jew. He told me I couldn't piss in his mouth if I was menstruating, because that wasn't kosher. I don't have a problem with religious people, but if they're going to work as a human toilet, they shouldn't be allowed to discriminate against women just because they're menstruating. If they won't let everyone piss in their mouth, they should get another job."

Charles Darkanov disagrees. "My employees have total discretion over who can and cannot urinate on them. They might work as human toilets, but they're also human beings," says Charles. "My human toilets have values, beliefs, and morals that are strictly their own, and the Red Curtain has a strict policy that consent is the bedrock of human sexuality. You don't come to a sex club and piss on someone if they don't want you to piss on them, even if that's their job. I should also point out that the Red Curtain employs five human toilets, and Jeanette could have waited until one of the other four were available. She didn't have to pee on Alex."

Jeanette, however, says that's beyond the point. "We live in a secular society," says Jeanette. "Your religion doesn't give you carte blanche to discriminate against people at will."

Alex Rothstein, for his part, says the whole issue is ridiculous. "You know, I think Jeanette is kind of overreacting," says Alex. "She's suing me because I didn't let her piss in my mouth. That's pretty weird."

City health officials are raging mad at the latest party snack to hit the club scene. "I'm utterly baffled by the fact that none of these party promoters or club owners have been arrested yet" says Dr. Jonathan Livingstone. "Used condoms aren't a party food. They're not a snack. They're hazardous, and anyone stupid enough to eat one is liable to catch an STD."

Edible used condoms are a culinary fad that owe their existence to Thierry Desrochers, the owner of Little Italy's Lolana Nightclub. "I got the idea from a dream," says Thierry. "I was a participant on a reality cooking show, and was told that I had to cook a meal with nothing but used condoms. And I did, and it tasted amazing. When I woke up, I knew I had to try cooking the dish in real life, so I rubbed one out inside a trojan. I then sautéed the used condom in peanut sauce, and it was just as tasty in the flesh as it was in my dream."

It wasn't long before Thierry was offering his chewy concoctions to patrons of his nightclub. "My used condoms were so popular with my customers, that other clubs started offering their own used condom treats." These days, it's almost impossible to visit a party in Montreal without finding a bowl full of crispy used condoms for sale. "And it's not just condoms in peanut sauce either, there's all sorts of dishes being made with them now," says Thierry.

Elise Gauthier is a foodie who is wild for the new raver snack. "Used condoms taste great in poutine" says Elise. "And the thing I love most about eating used condoms, is how subversive the act is. When I'm chewing on one of them, it's like I'm giving the puritanical mores of our society the middle finger. It doesn't matter how they're cooked, used condoms all taste like rebellion. It's the ultimate punk food."

This rebellious streak doesn't impress Dr. Livingstone. "I don't care what the rationale for eating them is, a used condom isn't sanitary, no matter how well it's cooked." Thierry, however, disagrees. "I don't care what the doctors say -- a well cooked condom is perfectly safe to eat. If anyone tries to stop me from selling my culinary creations, I'm going to fight them all the way to Canada's Supreme Court," says Thierry. "I only serve adults at my establishment, and if they want to eat used condoms, that's their business. Their stomachs don't belong to the government, and they certainly don't belong to Dr. Livingstone."

Josh Carmen has a big problem with Montreal's party scene. "I don't understand where ravers got the idea that giving cocaine to their dogs is okay," says Josh. "It isn't. Giving coke to your pets is never okay. Not only is giving cocaine to your dog illegal, it is also very dangerous and incredibly bad for their health. If you love your dog, don't give them cocaine."

Dog Parties are the latest fad among Montreal ravers. Their origins remain a mystery, but their popularity can't be denied. Alisha Rezzo has thrown several of them over the last six months. "I know veterinarians disagree, but none of the dogs at our parties have died. They love getting high, and we love getting high with them. You know how much fun it is to get stoned with your friends? Well, it's even more fun to get stoned with man's best friend. Don't knock it until you've tried it. Dancing in a room full of coked up labradoodles is a one of a kind experience. It's blissful. Therapeutic even."

Josh Carmen isn't buying it. "Dogs aren't humans. If you give them cocaine and lock them in a room for twelve hours where loud music is being played non-stop, you are going to scare them. Ravers should be thankful that none of these dogs have attacked them yet. Because it's going to happen. Sooner or later, one of these dogs is going to snap, and it will kill a raver."

Alisha thinks Josh is overreacting. "Josh might have studied dogs, but he's never partied with them. Instead of dissing our parties, he should try attending one. The dogs love it. Dog parties are bringing PLUR back to the rave scene. Dogs bring out the best in people. It's a lot easier to feel peace, love, unity, and respect for each other when the dance floor is full of wagging tails."

Savour the Saviour, the latest rave thrown by promoter Tom Christos, is winding down. Dozens of his followers huddle around him. "We like to make sure he's well taken care of," says Julie White. "We've waited thousands of years for Jesus to return, and now he's back."

Tom Christos, a tall, long haired white man in thirties, claims to be the son of god -- reincarnated as a hard living, drug loving party promoter. "It used to be that only ravers followed Tom," says Randy Bergman, a sociologist who studies cults. "In the last few years, however, Tom has widened his appeal. You have people who've never been to a rave who believe in his divinity."

One unlikely convert is Nadia Abilshair, a 75 year old grandmother who joined Tom's cult last year. "My grandson, Tom bless him, told me that Jesus had returned. I didn't believe him at first, but the moment I heard him talk, it was like hearing angels sing. I knew in my heart that he really was Jesus returned." Nadia now spends her weekends selling bottled water at Tom's holy parties.

The heaven sent party promoter claims that he learned of his divine origin when he was a young child. "My dad brought me to a sacred village tucked away in a remote corner of rural Quebec," says Tom. "A small place that isn't marked on any maps, populated by the descendants of the knights templar. I was barely five years old when my father lead me to that town, brought me to the center where all the villagers had gathered."

Tom says his father pointed to a giant slab of stone that had a sword stuck in it. "My dad told me to pull it out. I did. Effortlessly. That's when all the villagers got on their knees and started to pray. At the time, I didn't know what was going on. That night, there was a huge celebration, and the mayer of this secret village told me that I was very important, and that I would be trained in the mystical arts of Christian ninjitsu."

Tom claims he was enrolled in a school run by Christian assassins who could trace their lineage back to the twelve apostles. "Right before Jesus died, he gathered his apostles around him in a cave deep in the hills of Judea," says Tom. "Jesus then unsheathed a sword he said had been forged in heaven, which he then inserted into the ground. He told his apostles that one day, he would return to take the sword, which he would then use to wage war on those who had sin in their hearts." Tom says that the apostles were tasked with safeguarding the swords. Months later, after Jesus died, they founded a secret league of holy warriors.

"These warriors guarded the sword for centuries. In 1703, they brought the holy blade to New France, where it remained until I pulled it out." Tom says he was trained in the art of Christian warfare. "I was taught the seven deadly arts of the Antilegomena," says Tom. "Eventually, I became disenchanted with my military training. When I was 20 years old, I knew how to kill a feral wolverine with my bare hands, but I didn't know what it felt like to kiss a girl. My teachers wanted me to smite the unworthy, but I just wanted to dance. I dropped out of assassin school, became a promoter, and moved to Montreal."

Tom won his way into the heart of Montreal's rave community within days of arriving. "Tom would hang out at my place every Friday," says Dave Littleman, a happy hardcore promoter. "He'd show up in his white tunic, starry eyed, his hair a tangled mess. He always acted like he was high. Because he was. He was high on God. And crystal meth. But mostly God."

Tom threw his first rave with Dave's help. "I leant Tom my sound system, which he used at a small outdoor dubstep party in the forests of Verdun. That party was out of this world."

It was such a hit, some ravers called the experience spiritual. "After Tom threw his dubstep party, he started getting a lot of followers. Or disciples, as he calls them," says Dave. "And who can blame them? When Tom throws a party, it does feel like God's out there dancing with you."

Tom says he's much happier being a promoter than he was being a divine assassin. "I might be Jesus reincarnated, but I've done my time. I already died for your sins, now I want to live for my sins. This whole end of the times fire and brimstone business just isn't for me. I'd rather listen to dubstep and get high."

Now Tom's disciples spread his gospel at parties across the city. "Tom is God, and God wants you to dance," says Julie White. "That's a religion anyone can get behind."

Every week, nearly two dozen body builders huddle together inside Kyoto Night lounge hours before the club opens to the public. Kyoto's owner, Tom Range, has offered his club as a sanctuary to these well built men. "Everyone thinks that only women are objectified," says Tom. "But the truth is, body builders are increasingly on the receiving end of aggressive sexual harassment, as well as plain old regular harassment. As a body builder myself, I've been victimized repeatedly because of how I look. It's unacceptable."

Fed up with being treated like a second class citizen, Tom wrote a manifesto on his blog that called for a new social movement dedicated to defending body builders from harassment. "After I published my manifesto, I was flooded with positive feedback. Body builders from around Montreal started reaching out to me, sharing their own stories of victimization and humiliation."

John Edwards is a 6'2, 275 lbs mass of muscles. "I work very hard to look this good," says John. "That doesn't mean that my body is an open party that everyone can grab or touch. But when I go out dancing, that's what happens. Women just come up to me and start fondling my muscles, like I'm public property. Well I'm not. I'm private property. I own my muscles. They're not yours. Don't touch them without my permission."

John was one of the first people to contact Tom after he published his manifesto. "Tom's manifesto resonated with me. I told him that we needed to get organized, to band together and tell people it's not okay to harass body builders."

At the duo's first meeting, ten body builders showed up -- and they came up with a name for their movement. "We're Swole Pride," says Lance Langier. Among body builders, swole is slang for well built. "Big is beautiful, and we aren't going to apologize for our muscles. We're not going to take crap from people who disrespect us for working out and eating healthy diets. We're letting the world know that it's okay to be a body builder."

Darren Rose, owner of Montreal's Iron Temple gym, says that the swole rights movement is misguided. "Body builders do have to put up with some pretty stupid behavior," says Darren. "If you're the biggest guy in the room, a lot of insecure men who feel like they have to prove themselves will try to provoke you and start fights with you. And yes, women do often come up to you to ask if they can touch your muscles, which is weird. It'd be like if men went up to random girls and asked them if they could feel up their breasts. It's inappropriate. And the worst is when they don't even ask, they just grab you. It's jarring when that happens. However, in the grand scheme of things, I don't think that body builders are oppressed. I think we just live in a society that encourages its members to dehumanize everyone, full stop. And if body builders want people to stop treating them poorly, they need to help build a society where we all start treating each other with respect."

Tom doesn't disagree. "Darren has a point, we do live in a society where respect and civility are in short supply. And that's something that I'll talk about at the next Swole Pride meeting, for sure. However, for now, I just want to create a safe space where body builders can share their stories of harassment with each other."

Jessica Duprix and Alice Genereux spent most of Friday night on their knees. The two best friends were returning from their drug dealers apartment when disaster struck. "We were walking down Prince Arthur with a few eight balls of coke that we had bought for our friend's bachelorette party," says Jessica. "Nature had other plans in store for our cocaine, though."

"I wanted a pre-party taste," says Alice. "So the two of us decided to walk to Carre St-Louis and have ourselves a few lines. We found an empty park bench, took out our bag of coke, a pocket mirror, a bank card, and rolled ourselves a fifty dollar bill. I was about to prepare my first line when everything went to hell." Unfortunately for the intrepid duo, a strong gust of wind snatched the bag of coke out of Alice's hand. "The wind carried the bag up in the air, it snowed white powder all over Carre St-Louis. We were horrified. Hundreds of dollars of coke, gone."

The women were inconsolable at first. "We were devastated. Coke isn't cheap," says Jessica. "But we didn't want to give up so easily. We decided to macguyver it. We got on our knees, and started collecting as much of the cocaine back as we could. We were scraping it off the floor with business cards that I had in my purse. It was sad."

It took them an hour to reclaim a fraction of their eight ball. "By the end of that hour, we realized there was no way we could save all of it. Instead, we called up our friends, told them what happened, and invited them to come down to the park and enjoy some dirty ass cocaine. If we couldn't scoop the cocaine up, we could at least sniff it off the ground."

Soon, the pair were joined by half a dozen friends who spent the night crawling across the park, sniffing the ground. "We were like dogs," says Jessica. "It was the dirtiest high any of us ever had. I'm pretty sure cocaine was the healthiest thing that went up our noses that night."

The two women say they learned a valuable lesson from their ordeal. "Never try snorting something when it's windy," says Jessica. "You're just going to have a bad time."

David Dawdler never thought it would happen to him. "I've been a party promoter for over fifteen years. I've done a lot of hard drugs during that time. Coke, crack, meth, peyote, DMT, PCP, ketamine, bath salts, hell I've even huffed gas on a few occasions. I've treated my body like shit for years and it always kept on going, so I was absolutely shocked when the doctor told me that I had gout."

Gout is relatively rare in people under the age of 50. "One out of a thousand men between the ages of 50 to 65 develop gout," says Ellen Sanger, a dietitian at the Hebrew Wellness Center. "It's very rare for people under 50 to develop gout. If you're young and you get gout, It's because you haven't been eating a healthy diet."

"Gout often manifests as an inflammatory arthritic attack," says Ellen. "It can make walking painful." David had to use a cane in order to get around. "I'm 33 years old and I'm walking around with a cane. Why? It's not because I've ruined my body with drugs. Nope, I have to walk with a cane because for the last eight months, I've been eating nothing but fast food. My diet of hot dogs, hamburgers and chicken wings has thrown my body into chaos and now I'm paying the price."

David's diet took a turn for the worse once he started his new job managing the website for an escort service. "I've been working around the clock on this website and I just couldn't bother with cooking food anymore. Instead, I started eating out exclusively. It's funny, 13 years of hardcore drug usage and I rarely ever got sick. 8 months of fast food and I can barely walk."

The gout is an easily treated condition. "The doctor's gave me some medication and I've stopped eating out all the time," says David. "I'll be fine. It just goes to show you though, sometimes you're better off taking crack than you are eating a hamburger."

Montreal is witnessing a gold rush as hundreds of young, affluent suburbanites flock to the city in an effort to reclaim money they feel is rightfully theirs. There's gold in the alleyways of Montreal, and these rugged West Island and South Shore natives are hellbent on mining it. "I've been robbing the homeless for a year now," says Steve LaDouche, a rave promoter from Kirkland. "It's one of the most rewarding jobs you could possibly imagine."

The rich and well to do citizens of Montreal's suburbs and exurbs are banding together to fight against Quebec's rampant socialist tendencies. "During the student protests of 2012, it was obvious that Montreal was under attack by godless communist parasites," says Steve. "I was driving down Crescent street in my dad's BMW when a bunch of dirty hippies blocked the road. They think society owes them a living. It doesn't. I worked hard for my dad's BMW. And if those protesters were willing to work hard like me, they wouldn't expect the government to provide basic services as if they were human rights."

After Steve's run in with the protesters, he decided he had to act. "I started reading Ayn Rand and Ron Paul. And it got me thinking -- it was time for the suburbs to fight back. People think we're privileged just because our parents can afford $500,000 houses. Well, we're not privileged. Poor people are privileged. The homeless are privileged. The poor take and take and take from us, and now it's time for us take back from them. So I put down my copy of Atlas Shrugged, called up some friends, and started patrolling the streets of Montreal looking for homeless people to rob."

Steve's attacks on the homeless have been incredibly popular among suburbanites. "Homeless people are disgusting," says Jude Manning. "If you're poor, it's because you're lazy. And if you're lazy, you deserve what you get. I think everyone who lives in the South Shore or the West Island should hop on a bus, go downtown, and punch a poor person."

Several politicians from the West-Island have thrown their support behind Steve. "I think Steve LaDouche started something important," says Gerald Luntz, the provincial M.P for the riding of Roxborro-Dorval. "But his war on the poor is just the beginning. We should end all wealth redistribution, privatize all public property, and close all public services. Those of us who live in the suburbs are self-reliant and self-made, and the homeless and working poor should learn from our example."

Steve isn't thinking that far ahead. "I'm glad my work is so well received, but right now, all I really want to do is throw an awesome party with all the money I've made robbing homeless people. I'm going to rent out Crescent street and get all the cool people from the West Island to come shake their asses to Skrillex. I'll show Montreal how to party suburban style. And when I'm done dancing to Skrillex, I'm going to go rob some more poor people."

27 year old nitzhonot promoter and web developer Gerald Desjardins was arrested over the weekend after attacking his girlfriend's boss. "He's insane," says Laurent Tetley. "We've been dating for about eight months, and during that time, he never did anything that would suggest that he was crazy. The only weird thing about him was his love of nitzhonot music, otherwise he seemed perfectly normal."

Laurent brought Gerald to a work party at Solarius Canada, a company that designs weather forecasting equipment. "It was a black tie even with an open bar. Gerald ordered five mojitos within thirty minutes of arriving," says Laurent. "By the time an hour had passed, he was wasted. He started hitting on all my coworkers and cat calling them. Everyone kept asking who Gerald was with, I was so embarrassed."

Things kept going downhill. "My boss noticed how uncomfortable I was, so he came over to ask me if I was alright. Gerald mistook my bosses concern for flirting, so he walked up to him, accused him of trying to steal his girlfriend, and then pushed him in the chest so hard that he fell down. My boss is 72 years old. Gerald's a dumbass."

Witnesses of the altercation called the police, who were on the scene within minutes. "By the time the police arrived," says Laurent, "Gerald had completely lost his mind. For some reason, after he attacked my boss, he decided that was an excellent time to ask him for a job. The police were putting handcuffs on his writs while he was screaming about what a great Solarius employee he'd be, and how they'd never find as good a programmer as him anywhere else. The room broke out into cheers once he was finally escorted off the premise."

Laurent broke up with Gerald after bailing him out of jail. "He's an idiot. I'm just happy my boss didn't fire me."

Parents across Montreal can add toothpaste to the long list of threats that their children have to contend with. "Childhood is under siege," says Martha Parker, a concerned West Island mother. "What's happening to the world when even toothpaste poses a moral danger to our children?"

Last December, researchers at the Mongolian Chankatter institute for the Dental Sciences discovered that the titanium dioxide particles in toothpaste affected spacial recognition in mice. "To put it bluntly," says lead researcher Dr. Mout, "when we applied toothpaste to the nipples of the mice, they entered a state that closely resembles a drug high. Their pupils dilated, their heart rate increased, and their ability to navigate mazes was greatly reduced. They became disoriented, as if they were drunk."

The Chankatter study set off a flurry of activity among the seedier parts of the internet, where intrepid psychonauts decided to test out whether a similar high could be had in humans. After users on the internet reported getting high on toothpaste, teenagers across the country started applying it to their chests in search of a cheap drug high.

"Anecdotal evidence does suggest that applying toothpaste to one's areolas affects the human brain in ways similar to our mice experiments," says Dr. Mout, "We are not, at this time, aware of what the health implications of a toothpaste high are. More research needs to be done."

Martha Parker has spent the last month trying to get Canadian politicians to act on the new drug craze sweeping through schools across the country. "Children are getting high on a drug they can buy at the grocery store," says Martha. "Our politicians need to get their act together. Now that toothpaste can be used as a narcotic, it needs to be regulated, and the giant corporations who have been selling this dangerous drug need to be held to account for helping corrupt our young. Children are the future, and we need to protect our future by making toothpaste a controlled substance."

Marcel Beaulien, better known to his fans as DJ Tyrion, was wrapping up after spinning a two hour psytrance set at a small party on Friday when four unknown assailants attacked him.

"I was heading out the back door when some weirdo wearing a zebra patterned hoodie walked up to me, tapped me on the shoulder, then punched me in the face," says Marcel. "I fell to the ground, and that's when some of his friends held me down while the zebra guy cut off my dreads." The musical maverick was devastated by the attack. "They stole my hair, man. They cut it off, put it in a small plastic bag, and ran away. That's not cool at all. It's like they took a part of my soul away from me. I feel so naked without my dreadlocks."

Marcel isn't the first person to be hit by the dreaded dreadlocks bandits. "We've seen a massive spike in hair related crimes this winter," says Sgt. Batista of the SPVM. "We believe that a group of teenagers is prowling Montreal's clubs targeting people who have dreads. They're armed, they're dangerous, and they need to be stopped."

Hair salon owner Rufus DesLaurier isn't surprised by the attack. "Montreal is home to a thriving black-market for dreadlocks," says Rufus. "Dreadlocks can be very expensive, so it's only natural that people have started stealing them. Some dreadlocks can go for hundreds of dollars, or as much as an iPad. No one's surprised to hear about iPads being stolen, but dreads aren't cheap either."

Police are warning dreadlock owners to wear hats and to remain vigilant in public. "If your hair is valuable, realize that there are criminals out there who are going to come after you. Protect your head," says Sgt. Batista. "You can never be too careful. It's a scary world out there."

Nurse Elise Delisle says she's never seen anything like it. Over the last two months, dozens of teenagers have piled into Montreal's Hebrew Center for Health & Wellness with symptoms similar to those of leprosy. "It's the result of a new drug from russia called krokodil. It's the poor man's heroin," says Elise. "You can make it at home, and ever since ravers figured that out, Montreal's been flooded with the stuff. It causes your skin to fall off."

Krokodil's proper name is dihydrodesoxymorphine, or disomorphine, a derivative of morphine that was invented over eighty years ago. "All you need to make krokodil is codeine, iodine, red phosphorus and a complete disregard for living past 30," says Elise. "Krokodil addicts develop scaly skin, eventually your skin starts rotting. Serious addicts can barely move. It is a devastating drug, and now Montreal party goers are taking it en masse."

The drug owes its current popularity to Russia's party scene. "I first injected krokodil when I was visting family in Moscow," says Ziv Alexandrovich. "It was such an amazing high, I brought some with me back to Montreal and shared it with all my friends. Soon, everyone I knew was taking it."

Ziv wasn't Montreal's only early krokodil evangelist. Lisa Earnhart, a 23 year old zoology student at McGill university, was another early convert. She first read about the drug on a popular internet forum devoted to self-loathing. "I hate myself," says Lisa, "and I'm always looking for new ways to ruin my life. I was posting on a thread about self-mutilation when one of the other posters suggested getting high on krokodil. The next day, I cooked some up, and wow, it was the best decision I've ever made. Within a month, most of my hair had fallen out, my skin was rotting, and I looked like an extra from the Walking Dead. It's a lot easier to hate yourself when you look like a monster."

Dr. Leonardo Témiscaming says krokodil is a serious threat to public health. "Parents need to keep an eye on their children. This drug is no laughing matter. Thankfully, krokodil users are easy to spot -- or smell, as it were. All krokodil users smell of iodine. Their clothing is drenched in the scent of the stuff, and you can't wash that smell out. Unless you burn your clothing, which krokodil users aren't likely to do, because they look hideous naked."

Public health officials are busily working out plans to combat the scourge before it claims more lives. "It's an uphill battle," says Dr. Témiscaming. "So long as parents keep raising idiots, those idiots will keep getting high on drugs that'll give them leprosy." Elise Delisle agrees. "Parents really have to stop raising their kids to be absolute idiots. If you're child takes krokodil, you've failed as a parent."