Wilkie Collins was addicted to laudanum, a 10% solution of opiate in alcohol. He got it for a case of gout, and never stopped downing the stuff. One day, his servant, curious about his happy juice, poured for himself a big-ass glass, riiiight to the top same as Wilkie downed on the daily.
Killed the poor motherfucker. Like ahhhhhhhhhh mmmmm booom dead.
Wilkie went on to invent detective fiction. Go figure.
