There is a worldwide ban on recreational drugs. Horse owners are forbidden from competition if their horses test positive for certain substances. I am an underpaid artist who owns an underpaid horse and we are both desperate.

For the first time in my life, I felt like I was moving up in the world. I had finally managed to afford a studio apartment, and it was the biggest place I had ever lived in. For the first time in my life, I had an extra bedroom. In a bold move, I had decided to turn that extra room into a studio. I spent a good portion of my savings on paints, canvases, and a few pieces of furniture. I was running low, and I knew that if I didn’t start selling my paintings soon, I would be in serious trouble. <br><br>In a bold move to get my name out there, I signed up for a series of competitions with my horse. I had owned the gelding since he was a foal, and we had trained for years to get to the level we were at. It was a long shot to get into any of the big competitions, but I was hoping that if I did, I could network and find people interested in the paintings I had been working on. They were all inspired by my horse, Winston, and the beautiful places we had been. Now, I just had to actually get into the competitions. <br><br>That was when I discovered that many of the big competitions had a rule against doping your horses. I wasn’t surprised. Horses were expensive. If people were willing to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a horse, I could see them drugging it in an attempt to win. But how did they test for drugs? They tested the horses’ blood and urine. How did they get a clean test out of a drugged up horse? They flushed the drugs out of the horses’ systems. <br><br>It was an insane idea, but I was desperate. I was barely scraping by. Holding onto my studio and Winston was hanging by a thread. I had to at least try. I spent all of my remaining money on the best drugs available, and I started consuming them. As the drugs flushed through my system, I collected my urine. <br><br>I almost cried when I saw the look on the officials' faces as I discharged a thoroughbred-sized bucket of piss into a tiny cup. I almost cried again when they announced the winner. It wasn’t me. Instantly, I was in damage control. The only reason I had drugged myself was in the hopes of getting my name out there. I needed to salvage this as much as possible. <br><br>I walked up to the woman who had won, and smiled graciously as I offered her my congratulations. My paintings were neatly arranged over a few easels behind me, and I tried to sound as casual as possible as I asked her if she liked art. <br><br>“I love art! And these paintings are breathtaking. Where do you get your inspiration?”<br><br>“I spend a lot of time in nature, hiking and camping with my horse,” I replied. <br><br>“Are these paintings of him?”<br><br>“Yes. They’re all from our adventures. And, of course, from our competition career. There’s quite a few from this competition, actually. Now that it’s over, I was thinking of holding an exhibition to celebrate. Do you think you would be interested?”<br><br>She told me she was very interested, and we exchanged numbers. She held the exhibition in her mansion, and almost a third of my paintings sold in the first hour. None of them sold for under twenty thousand dollars. <br><br>The next competition came around, and I decided to take my newfound wealth and double down on the drugs. I didn’t want to do it, but the money was too good to walk away. This time, I did end up going home with a blue ribbon. <br><br>My paintings also got a lot more abstract.