Last Bandit: Book 1 in The Bandits Series

Flying High Again

Chapter 7: Flying High Again ~

A man in Albuquerque offers me a bag of pot or coke, but I'd much rather take a pill. It's less messy and less time consuming. It's easy to just swallow one and drift away. So I ask him if he has any.

He pulls a few narcotics from his coat pocket and shakes them around in his hand. There's white ones and orange ones and blue ones and red ones, all of which could do the job just fine. I ask him how much.

"For you, I'll make it fifteen for a blue or red, twelve for a white, and just nine for an orange," he smiles a gummy smile with rotted teeth. His nose is red and dry and his eyes are crossed. "Or I'll give you one of each for fifty."

I wonder why random drug dealers come up and ask me if I want anything. I suppose they know a junkie when they see one.

I purchase a blue pill. For me, those kinds have worked the best. Every blue pill I have taken has given me the best high, the best feeling. Usually, people say they're either Valium or Oxycodone. But I don't really keep track of which is which.

Now I'm fifteen dollars short. I don't know if I got a deal or ripped off. It doesn't matter. It's worth it.

When I get back on the bus, I swallow the pill along with some whiskey and wait for the high to kick in. I'm back here all alone, so I won't be bothered when I go all dopey.

I forget where I am and what I am doing and where I am going. I nod off and on and off and on until I'm comatose from the tiny drug. I dream a weird dream involving Tyla from The Dogs D'Amour, Tracii Guns from L.A. Guns, Mary Ann, and an oddly large octopus with just seven tentacles.

And I wake up in a different world.