It seems like it takes at least a year, but you eventually manage to reach the overturned trash can. The spilt DrinkyBev is little more than a thick, crusty gel coating the bottom of it, but you know it'll get you where you need to go -- after all, this isn't your first time scraping discarded drugs off of an unsanitary surface. You have to use your fingernails, though, so it does take awhile, and clumps of hair cause a coughing fit or two; but after only 30 or 40 minutes of work, the trash can is clean (comparitively, anyway) and you're feeling a damn site better. Although you seem to have lost a fingernail at some point. The parasitic lamprey that lives in your urethra, placated by the surge of caustic toxins in your bloodstream, dials down the unbearable pain to a dull background throbbing in appreciation. Now that you won't need a fix for the next 20 minutes, you climb to your feet and choose your next move.