Never trust the people at Home Depot

I was at a plant sale last weekend, and noticed there was a single large, columnar cactus cutting for sale. Intrigued, I inquired as to its origin. The salesperson told me they were from South America, and could be propagated by simply planting the cutting in some sandy soil. It sounded like a fun project, an a good one for a hermit who likes to take off for weeks on end (when they are not slave to a work-a-day lifestyle), so I picked up one and was on my way.
When I got home, I began scouring guidebooks and the internet for more information on cactus care and growth. I found one webpage on the succulents that were spiritually important to South American indigenous cultures, with a picture that looked a lot like what I had just brought home. Excited to begin propagating this thing, I took a picture of it, planning to take more pictures as it grew and budded off into different sections. It was a rather innocuous cactus, and I wondered why it was so important to the cultures of the lands from whence it came.
Finally, I found another webpage that matched the description of this cactus. The picture was identical to my newly purchased cutting. The cactus, either Lophophora williamsii or Anhalonium lewinii, was said to contain large quantities of mescaline.

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Wanting confirmation of this identification, I decided to take the cutting over to my botanist friend’s house. I thought it strange that a mescaline-filled cactus would end up at a plant sale at the storefront of a chain hardware store. I wrapped it up in tissue paper that evening, and set out. As I walked, I rounded a corner and noticed several police officers standing on the corner by the donut shop I was approaching. Nervous, as I suspected my new purchase contained enough illegal drugs to put me away for a long, long time, I quickened my pace. They were eying me quizzically.
There was nowhere to turn. My instincts told me to get off the street as quickly as possible; however, that would have likely aroused their suspicions, as they had seen me see them eying the package under my arm. Having had a previous encounter with the LA County Police Department, I was not eager to incite their wrath. As I approached, one officer spoke to me.
“OK, we just gotta know, what is that package you’re carrying under your arm?”
Mescaline, I replied in my head, and looked at him blankly, trying to appear as though I wasn’t sure I was being addressed. He stepped in front of me, making it obvious that I was the target of his inquiry.
“You, see, my buddies here have a bet going. One thinks it’s a bottle of wine, and the other thinks it’s a sub sandwich.”
I decided to go for it.
“It’s a gardening cactus!” I replied, and unwrapped the oblong cutting and handed it to him.
“Hey guys, come check this out! You were both wrong! It’s a cactus!” I watched in horror as the three officers passed around the cutting, laughing at their mistake, and I mumbled something about my aunt giving me a cutting. After an eternity, satisfied, they handed it back to me.
I fumbled it. The cutting smashed open on the sidewalk. The officers apologized, and said they hoped my aunt’s plant was big enough to handle having another cutting taken. I walked off in the direction of my botanist friend’s house until I was out of sight, then looped around and went back home, as I had nothing to show him.
Then I remembered the photo I had taken, taken back when I dreamed of an illustrated cactus-growing project how-to, since my “How to Deflesh a Magpie” photographic tutorial received such rave reviews. I emailed it to my botany pal. The next day I got a reply.
Indeed, it was a cactus full of mescaline, and probably could have sold it to some dirty patchouli-scented hippie for a ridiculous amount of money. Oh well.
Incidentally- phenethalamine, the "love drug" in chocolate and Root Beer is only about three methyl groups away from being mescaline.