After any kind of drug haul, everyone in
the crew indulged. I laughed to myself as I pictured blues
and Dilaudid in such great amounts on the spoon that it
would literally be overflowing. Upon entering my vein,
the drug would start a warm itch that would surge along
until the brain consumed it in a gentle explosion. It began
in the back of the neck and rose rapidly until I felt such
pleasure that the whole world sympathized and took on a
soft, lofty appeal. Everything was grand then. Your worst
enemy -- he wasn't so bad. The ants in the grass -- they
were just, you know, doin' their thing. Everything took
on the rosy hue of unlimited success. You could do no wrong,
and as long as it lasted, life was beautiful.
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