"Be careful what you wish for…"

Excerpt from chapter 23 (© 1999)

~~~The beginning of Melissa's downfall at the hands of the Monaro driver~~~

The Monaro Driver handed over a small plastic bag a third full of white powder. He asked her if she knew what to do with it, and just as he'd thought this chick didn't have a bloody clue.

You could heat it up in a spoon, or on a piece of foil until it liquefied, he told her, and inhale the fumes. You could snort it through a straw. You could even eat china white as pure as the stuff she'd just paid for. The best way, though, was to inject it.

"It works out cheaper, and you get a faster and better high."

Melissa's head whirled by the time he'd finished explaining. It sounded so complicated, but no way would she let him stick a needle in her arm. She hated needles. So he melted some down for her to sniff. 'Chasing the dragon,' he called it.

She bent her head and inhaled, and it hit her within seconds. God, this was marvellous stuff! "Fantastic," she whispered, her eyes dreamy as pleasure coursed through every nerve in her body: the most wonderful sensation she'd ever felt in her life. She wouldn't be able to do this at home, though, she explained. The smell was a dead giveaway for one thing. Her Olds would catch her for sure if she started to burn pieces of tinfoil in her room.

"You don't know what they're like. They're suspicious already; always looking through my stuff."

Fair enough. The last thing he wanted was for her parents to find out she'd taken that critical first step down the primrose path. His little butterfly might escape the net if that happened; his carefully laid plans come to naught. The Monaro driver had another go at talking her into trying the needle, though nothing he said could convince her. Stupid little bitch - didn't she realise it would come to that in the end?

No, she'd try eating it first, she told him. See how it made her feel.

He wanted to smack her one, but he couldn't. Yet. So he smiled his charming smile at her, measured out a pinch of white powder, and showed her how to wet her finger and rub it into her gums. Fucking waste of time - it wouldn't have any particular effect, except to intensify the high she'd already experienced from inhaling.

Never mind.

You needed more of this stuff every time to get the same high. It wouldn't take her long to realise it was her time and money she was wasting.

"Here, don't forget what's left of the shit you paid for," he said when she opened the passenger door and slid out. "And try not to use it up too fast."

He knew she would, of course. In fact, he was counting on it.

(End of excerpt)

From Kevin (Pedro) Perandis, a Vietnam vet with a great site of his own, called, of course, the Boozer.

Below is a link - you should check it out - and thanks, Pedro for your show of appreciation.

THE BOOZER

Another excellent Vietnam-related site is Tony Blake's, who has been of invaluable help to me in my research for my Vietnam novel. It's called A Grunt's View, and you can link to it here.