Chapter Twelve: A Widow's Tail. .
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It is time to begin our Widow's Tale! Enter The Methamphetamine, Wizard "Lee" Rogers. . .
Big Jim was the first to get out. Then Tex an' my body guard. Then me. Yea. $50,000.00. Yea, that's what it cost me. $50,000.00 bail an' attorney fees! Oh, yea, I saw that there chemical salesman at the bond hearing; he was the Fed! DEA at that! Yea, an' the Fed got me broker than I was when I was broke. My car is in lockup, the Feds done confiscated that there Mark IV! Yea, for trafficking. Chalk one up for Mr. Yellow pants.
     An' speaking of Big Jim, the Feds done cleaned him out also. Yea. 7 automobiles, 2 automatic weapons, cash an' what ever else they found with his name on it! Anything we have they done got . . . but now Jim wants to resume cooking twice as bad! An' the eyes are on me to raise the dough! Yea, it was me that got them into that there Widows nest. So, you know, yea, I got only one place I can get the kind of money we need to buy supplies an' glass ware: my folks . . .
. . . Pops done put out thousands of large to help me. Yea, a fifty thousand dollar bond cost a minimum of $5,000.00 cash one don't get back. It was my show an' the Big Guy expects me to dig deep into them there folks pockets. But, now I need another $5,000.00. Yea, like I steal a check an' forge the works for $4,000.00 an' go an' buy a 10,000 M.L. cooker, Phenol Acidic Acid, Acetic Anhydride, Sodium Acetate, Methlamine and Mercuric Chloride an' get ready to cook some dough & dope. . .
. . . Winter's dismal cold an' wet greets Jim an' I as we get out of the car in North-North Georgia. Yea, we're in the middle of a 40 acre farm that we rented for our clandestine laboratory: an old, missing sides barn. Yea, but it ain't long before were running drop cords from the main house and hooking the reactor condenser to the well--yea, like nuclear . . .
. . . Big Jim an' I have been toothpick eyes for days. Yea, an' the travel program is like something out of a South American Rain Forest Expedition: 3 days out an' 3 back just to buy chemicals. Yea, 6 days of no sleep an' lots of Crank-up. Yea, I'll say it again for emphasis: up for days in the cold, wet, miserable, uncomfortable, an' nasty--did I say it enough?--weather making the reactor react!. . .

(. . . 'Yea, but I wanna truly go home an' back to the night shift an' sleep in a soft an' comfortable bed . . . yea, but that's dead! First of all, one of the conditions of my release was that the judge said they would call when they had a place to put me. Yea, told me to wait--can you imagine that!--until that call an' then turn myself in! Yea, that 7 do 15 parole thing! Yea, you know the Fed was ticked off I got out. An' they gotta be looking by now! Yea, specially 'cause I ain't called or nothing like I was supposed to! Yea, an' more than anything else, I done stole from Pop an' Mom! Yea, so I'm freezing an' miserable an' that here dope ain't doping me no more!'. . .)

. . . loading the cooker with Phenol Acidic Acid, YUCK!!--you've never smelled the stuff, it smells just like cat dung! I'm not kidding. Once you are in a room--even one with the sides missing--with the stuff uncorked, you can shower for hours an' catch a bus an' watch how those around you respond to your "aroma"! Yea, it gets sucked up into your pores and into your blood stream an' is deposited into the very core of your fatty tissue. Yea, it takes months for it to evaporate out of your system! Yea, for months it stays an' eats your insides! . . .
. . . after loading the cooker with Phenol Acidic Acid an' setting the sentry up--yea, a Vietnam Vet with M-16 an' night vision goggles--Jim an' I go an' rent a motel room: spend hours trying to get the smell out of us--but trying to bath the six days of chemical exposure off of us requires a gallon of Aramis Cologne! . . .
. . . After eating out an' stocking up on beer, we go back to the lab. Yea, excited we arrive only to discover the well has done run dry! Yea, an' the stuff has done burned up! Yea, heck, we gotta go an' buy a brand new batch of chemicals an' start the heck all over again!!! . . .
. . . Yea, an' the vet gets tired of our stupidity an' quits. . .
. . . We move to a motel in town--setting up is a trip, both ways! Paranoid is not the word: we are packing-down to the bone! Yea, we're ready for anyone-thing! Finally, on December 24, 1986, we get the first few ounces to crystallize and make two thousand up front with the balance coming on the cuff!. . .

( . . . 'Yea, it's Christmas time! Oh! How I long for Gramps an' that there simple time of hymn singing an' garage slipping an' yellow peach sipping! Yea, to ride to that there drag track an' get back what ever I left there! Yea, to sit upon my mom's porch sipping an ice tea . . . Oh! How sweet an' innocent I desire to be! Yea, Bo-pee. . . but Darlene will do!' . . .)

. . . Yea, remember that soft an' young sweet thing I told you about? My party animal from the Hatfields buy 'n bust? I got the chance to act Christmas by spending $500.00 on toys an' such for her little boy! Yea, her boy lives with Darlene's ex. Yea, you know how that scene goes: Darlene's drug problem extends right down to that little boy . . . yea, I thought so much of myself when I saw him! But, heck, that's another story all together. An' you know that one! Yea, no excuses for me! . . .

(. . . 'Laying low. Using an' abusing. Yet, I do not consider myself to be an' addict . . . even though I just threw my fourth filthy needle away. Yea, in my world, violence, crime, dishonesty, dirty needles, confinement and stealing from the ones who demonstrate they love you is normal' . . . )

. . .On January 1, 1987, I meet Dory; beautiful, 28 years old, 5'6", long blonde hair, gray-blue eyes, and just enough freckles to complete her magic! Yea, Dory is an extrovert! My magic opposite! Yea, she talks continually an' I love her voice! In fact, Dory fills so much need in my life, I think I might love totally for the first time in my life. . .
. . . Dory is hooked on Meth I supply. Our combined habits sometimes reaches $1000,00 per day! On days we cannot afford to satisfy our needs, we are exhausted an' sleep all day. . .
. . . Big Jim is on the same kind of bond I am. 50 thou! Yea, he has to report to Maxwell Air Force Base to do the three years he has plea bargained for. Yea, he has to report an' we meet to discuss business. I mention some new guy I heard about through the wire to help with the cookin'; no go, seems Jim once caught him snoopin' around a house before a bust! Yea, his names Ronnie, yea, like my old partner. So, I will have to do the cooking an' train somebody's later. Yea, so we wind up on the same agreement Rodney said he had with the real Steve: I will keep Jim's kids and wife in cash until I'm caught, then he will send cash to me. Yea, but I know I'll get an extra 5 years for not turning myself in, but I think the risk is worth it. . .

(. . . 'Yea, that dumb numb mind of mine a minding my business an' rationalizing away. Yea, like what risk are we talking about? I WILL GET CAUGHT! That I know. So, don't really mind my mind's stupidity 'cause it's only them there excuses again.' . . .)

. . . Yea, an' I'm using a car Dory an' I pulled out of the woods. A Maverick with almost zero brakes. Yea, Dory's car is a hot-rod an' it ain't right for running dope. Yea, you need quality transportation to deliver drugs an' money. . .
. . . All of our product is in liquid form. Twenty gallons full of purple looking, acetone smelling, liquid. Yea, an every batch I try crystallizing is coming out different! Yea, no quality control with Big Jim in the can! Yea, I'm experimenting with crystallization an' some batches are as yellow as that there stuff Jim first showed me. Others are like salt. An' some the colors of the rainbow!. . .
. . . Yea, the rainbow stuff is pulling in the bucks. Yea, an' I buy a decent car . . .
. . . Dory an' I go an' pay cash for a . . . PORSCHE! Yea, a beautiful car that corners better then a Vette an' can hit a curve at 60, pull second and bite the corner. Yea, that there Porsche won't run below 60 in fifth. So, ya gotta run in fourth . . . yea, RIGHT!. . .
. . . Dory an' I are renting a house off South Cobb Drive. Yea, large with a barn in the back. Been used to manufacture Meth before . . . yea, a crank lab by somebody? I discover this fact when I check under the bathroom sink, there is a big hole put there to clean out glass ware or to dump the goods if the cops come around. Yea, a perfect place for two drug-dealing-manufacturing-addicted-lovers-in-love . . . with what . . .
. . . more evidence in the barn of someone's cooking. . .
. . . Yea, I've finally perfected the process that Rodney an' the DEA have so graciously furnished an' rented a couple of storage houses on both the north an' south side of Atlanta. Yea, I gotta protect my merchandise--plenty of 'cause an' reason to separate the goods . . .
. . . Dory an' I are constantly trying to reach them there places we lost so long ago. Yea, we're hittin' an' smokin. Yea, the dough is large, though, an' the Network is finally paying off! Even with our addictions, we got more than enough to buy an' trade for several more vehicles. Yea, I still got the Porsche an' have added a Dodge Custom Van, complete with TV an' them captain's chairs; a BSA Thundercat Motorcycle--chopped with a 14 over extension; a modified Chevy with lots of moon-running-gump-shine! Yea I got plans! Yea, gonna be a BIG GUY! Yea, an' have storage houses all over with their own cars 'n labs--with cookers 'n chemicals . . . 'n staffed by the BROTHERHOOD! Yea, those thoughts rule my mind all the time. Yea, gotta have places in different spots on occasion of that there bust out. Yea, the paranoia's are tweaking us out . . .
. . . Jim's wife is continuously beeping me for drugs. Jim told me not to get her strung out . . . yea--'cause of the kids. So I told her no quite a few times. Yea, she's steaming an' blaming .
. . . I send Dory to the main storage house, I'm a federal fugitive an' can't get out much. I spend my days studying Martial Arts, chemistry, and lots of lab work. Yea, an' I enjoy it--except I spend my nights doin' the same thing. Yea, so it's "study" 24 hours a day! Yea, but I am tweaking more an' more! Yea, parrrrraaaannnnoia . . .
. . . The longest I've stayed awake is 21 days. Yea, people would not believe me if I told them that, but, I was so geared I drank a fifth of Jim Beam--straight--and passed out for four hours and then woke up wide awake an' stayed that way for the rest of the month. Yea, but a friend of mine got me beat: Jimmy G. bought a Kenworth tractor in '78 and paid for it in one year--claimed he didn't sleep but 30 hours the entire year?. . .
. . . Dory returns an' I learn that someone's done broke into our storage house! Yea, takin' chemicals from us! The wire soon says it was Ronnie. Yea, Ronnie; the one we approached to be our cook. Yea, word is he had even searched a house that got busted prior to our talk!. . .
. . . Jim's wife tells Jim I'm spending cash on everything but her an' the kids. Yea, an' gives him the news of the break-in! . . . an Jim goes an' "escapes" from his luxury time-share (but, you see, the Brotherhood an' that there Air Force Base Prison Garden Spot goes together a long ways ago, Big Jim's got it made!) An' soon he's callin' me from a motel near 6 Flags off I-20 . . .
     "Hello, 459-2484."
     "Who's speakin'"
     "Who you lookin' for?"
     "I need to speak with Wizard."
     "You got 'im. Where you at?"
     "Motel at 6 an' twenty."
     "Who you got?"
     "Wife, Tex an' friends."
     "None can come here!'
     "Not even the wife!?"
     "Nobody knows I'm here--I want to keep it that way!"
     "I'll stand for her."
     "You know the penalty if she crosses the line?"
     "Yea!'
     "OK. You an' her only! 15 minutes.". . .
. . . Dory an' I go meet Jim an' his wife at a motel near 6 Flags and I-20. They follow us back to the house where a battle begins. Yea, Jim explains that his wife don't get nothing. Yea, and Dory an' I are living large! But, yea, I got the books an' inventory all laid out! Yea, Jim takes one look an' is satisfied. Yea, an' now that I have perfected the process, Jim wants to cook a batch so he can bring some cash an' meth back to his country club.

Jim an' I empty the back bedroom, black out the windows, and set up two 10,000 M.L. Tri-Necks. Yea, with Clausen Condensers and cooling water from the sink in the bathroom. All that remains is the electronic scales we use to weigh chemicals an' finished product . . .
. . . 9 pounds of this an' 6 pounds of that an' 3 pounds of something else. Turn on the heat to 275 degrees and wait 18-24 hours for the reflux.
     While we wait, Jim an' I get into our first an' last argument: Jim decides he wants to swap mates for the evening. Yea, but I'm not with it . . . I say it's up to Dory. But, she's definitely not with it! Yea, we got an understanding . . . Jim is ticked off: yea, the drugs, they make you do things you'd never even contemplate . . . yea, it's over, this here gig is the last one between us!
     The batch comes in at about 4 in the morning. Yea, I think, I should have been a chemist 'cause I love the work . . . the batch looks like a large yellow basket ball with crystal features! Yea, it's hard as a rock an' very acidic. But I find it readily melts with water combined with Sodium Hydroxide. Using a turkey baster, I pull off the oil from the top of the Red Devil Lye solution I make.
     By this time, we are anxious with desire: yea, the lethal chemicals we have been using have just penetrated our skin; our eyes shining like sparklers--yea, they light up in the dark room! Our motions now become jerky and there is a metallic taste invading our mouths. Stomach acid in the air effects the silver fillings in our mouths. Yea, but we're ready to snort an' shoot an' smoke our way to the next step to more product!
     We set up a distillation unit like those used to make alcohol and distill the Phenol 3 times to remove any impurities. Then, using this liquid and dragster fuel mixed together, we make the product 1000 times stronger. We finally mix the finished composition with Hydrochloric Acid to crystallize the end product.
     Yea, this product is the genuine thing! Fresh Ice an' looking like the DEA stuff sent to Big Jim through Rodney! Yea, an' we got gallons more ready to be distilled!
     After selling some, Jim is ready to return to his "duty". I tell him to take inventory an' we'll split the goods an' he can take what ever is his. He does an' we part friends. The last words Jim says is not to "mess with Ronnie".
     "Why", I ask like I didn't hear what was up about the break-in.
     He just shrugs an' walks out the door. . .
. . . Yea, that was weird! I know, deep down inside, it's time to make a move! Yea, this ain't tweaking', you know? Oh no! It's that warning system that's premeditated with fact! Danger lurking; if not from Jim then his wife? . . . or the new Ronnie or old Ronnie or/an' Dean? Yea, what about that one . . . real fishy! It's been years since Nolin an' Troy, but they're here! Yea, talkin' in my head an' stuff!
 

Chapter Thirteen: Murder On The Southern Express Blows The Snow Of White Ice . . .

But, yea, like I said earlier, we all get caught--one way or another: You know the guys who hit Nolin? Dean an' Benny B.? Well, they just went out an' killed an' robbed a man an' his wife in Fosyth County! Yea, but big, bad, bold Dean lucked out. Yea, but it wasn't 'cause of fear an' intimidation . . . at least not on his part, that is. 'Cause the fear an' intimidation came from the law as in his own impending doom. Yea, an' then big, bad, killer extraordinar' Dean, done went an' tole everything about his childhood friend an' side kick Benny B.! Yea, Benny B. got a group of life sentences, 'cause Dean done turned States Evidence. What-up Dean? Well, he's finished an' out of the groove! Yea, running scared . . . gonna eventually go an' meet the Big Man; yea, his maker . . . an' way before I do! Yea, so my paranoia don't gotta include him anymore . . .
* * *

I call the River-Rat. Yea, my truly loyal an' trustworthy brother in the Brotherhood. Yea, you recall, rememba? My boy Remmy. I tell him to come out after Jim left.
"Remmy, how about packing up an' moving this here stuff. I'm leaving town for a few weeks and we'll move somewhere else when I get back."
     "OK. For you an' Dory, anything! Yea, got it!"

Dory an' I leave town an' 28 hours later arrive in Texas. We take our time an' move some product as we shop the Tex-Mex gangs an' Bikers for chemicals. Yea, by the time we are done, we need a truck to carry the goods back. Yea, we head for North Georgia an' some of the best times of my life.

We arrive in the Georgia mountains. Yea, jus' Dory an' I an' those beautiful mountains . . . what a trio! Yea, an' we find some local folk an' ask them where we can go to do some trout fishing. They tell us to go to the next valley an' cross an old metal bridge an' turn right an' follow the dirt road we find there at least a mile . . .
     Beautiful country greets us as we come to the end of that there dirt road . . .

[A rustic, yet elegant location, with a white-water-full river; splashing, boiling, fuming in a crescendo of vibrant energy; set between kaleidoscopic green peaked hills an' red-clay-mortised mountain sides: a virtual concerto of nature (As seen by your author!)]

. . . Yea, so we place camp right along side that there [gorgeous-vivid-spectacle] water's side, and I think: 'Jus' the stars an' the moon, an' the water . . . flowing an' stuff . . . Yea, no worries, no cares--a camp fire at night an' sleeping some in the days! Yea, an' all this with my lovely, beautiful an' caring Dory!'
     Yea, so it was jus' Dory an' I . . . tellin' stories . . . an' doin' things lovers do. . .

(. . . 'Yea, poor Dory, she is bright in my mind right now: her beautiful, golden hair, shimmering in the sunset . . . teased by a cool an' sweet evenings breeze . . . laughing an' giggling with school girl charm as she listened, delighted in my chatter about nothing much at all . . . horsing around while she hand scrubbed pots an' pans with sand an' creek water . . . her playful smile upon her tender, sweet an' silent, innocent lips as she threw some of that there creek water at me and I acted hurt . . . lovers, we were. You an' I an' I an' you. Forever, we said 'n thought 'n acted . . . not for the world to know nor see. But just for we; you an' I--endless we were with no beginnings . . . for always you commenced an' initiated! Even now do you do for me! Yes, my Dory, tremble does my heart so yearn for but a mote of thy giggle! For thy novelty wrought not thy immortality but mortality proven by thy ends! Yet, mortifying would I lust unto another, for you remain as always: forever one with me! Always new an' fresh thy love . . . sullied not by death an' drugs an' hard core, non-caring sexual tryst an' trite . . . Oh my lovely, caring Dory! Yes, you live yet! In my memories if not else. You must leave me an' run, run, run! Do not stay, my love! For the Widow in waiting awaits both of us eternally'. . . )
* * *

Georgia mountains, Dory, an' I, what a trio! Yea, if only the drugs didn't make it four. . .
I take some liquid speed down to the river bank to crystallize on a Coleman stove. Now, ether has a flash point an' I don't have a thermometer. I light the stove an set the pot of speed on top.      Yea, what an urge will do to one hungry, jonesing junkie!
     Yea, as I said, I set the dog-gone thing on top of the stove an' it explodes! Heck, catches fire so swiftly I forget the danger and reach for the thing--yea grab the thing with my hands to put the fire out!
     Well, the liquid fire decides to run amuck! Yea, amukly down my pant legs an' in a moments moment, I'm the damn comic book hero FLASH! Yea, I'm engulfed in hot, liquid, atomic fire! "Help!!!" I scream out as I make for the water . . . splash! Fizz!
     Yea, fizz did the glory of mountains an' country an' Dory rush down that stream. Three days of rain followed my own rain an' extinguished that there hot flame of love an' such--'cause there were no dry clothing and no dry matches to start a fire an' cook any vittles(OR ANY SPEED!!!)--but Dory, always thinking, initiating, doing, yea, she just ups an goes over the bridge an' finds an' rents a beautiful house right on that there rainy river's shore--Yea, for a whole week! . .
Yea, so after a week of roaming the hills--nearly running over a black bear!--an' hiring locals to take us up the rapids so we can inner tube our way back down, we head back to pick up Remmy an' the crew an' another big brew.
* * *

We arrived at the base of the North Georgia Mountains ready to renew our supplies--the crystal kind! We made a deal to set up the lab in the old Loser Clubhouse. Yea, the infamous Loser Clubhouse; once a Harley Davidson sales and repair shop, it was now a clubhouse for River-Rats and Good ol' Boys--'cause Dog, the owner, he done lost his license. Got a felony conviction, you know. Yea, but it still looked like a Harley Davidson Shop! Yea, its got Antique Harleys an' tools an' lots of chrome. Yea, well, the shop is sectioned off an' we're gonna use a section in the back to do our cookin'!
      Remmy an' I decide we are gonna do a twenty pounder. Yea, a twenty pounder--yea, you know what I'm saying, when your hungry an' go to a grocery store an' buy more than your belly--or wallet!--can hold! Well, we gonna barely be able to cram twenty pounds into that 22,000 M.L. cooker! Yea, we decide that we need another cook. Yea, an' I still gotta set up the lab! It gonna takes two to tango that much crystal! But who? Heck, Dory got delivery. Remmy got batch help. Dog has perimeter duty. Yea, we need a powder man: the guy who crystallizes liquid to powder, remember Big Jim?
     Remmy claims that guy Ronnie can do it; you remember him! Yea, that there Ronnie! The one Big Jim already told us about Ronnie. Yea, an those rumors of him sneakin' around, boys getting busted an' stuff? . . . but being hungry an in a hurry always overrides logic. Yea, so I tell Remmy to go an' put the word on the street that I'm looking for Ronnie about business . . .
* * *

You know we're on the end run, you an' me, don't you? Yea, an' this here book is not a book about Mafia drug running at all, but a rambling, rumbling, satire of drug addiction an' affliction! Yea, I would like to wish the word satire would be appropriate, you know? Yea, if it weren't so true an' devastating we could, some how, make it satire. You can see the facts are there: always getting busted just when I think I'm somewhere; beginning anew with no where to get to; friends I claim are trusting, loyal an' father/brother figures who turn into snitches an' pushers; girl friends I tell you I love an' marry only to get them addicted an' dependent on me . . . until I go down an' they have become like I; Big Guys whom are all powerful until I get taken down--an' Pops an' Moms gotta get me out; Good Ole' Boys who rob an' rip an' kill one another under the banner of that there brotherhood!
     I guess I never planned nor desired to be anyone. Just went on a trip for a life time of rollarcoaster rides where nothing was important nor responcabile. You see, it took twelve years of my looking inwards an' someone who had lived a life like this here River-Rat's life to understand my feelings, my words, my actions, my reasons. Yea, an that person looked, listened, and analyzed hundreds of pages of information in order to combine my thoughts with my actions, and put them all together in a way that was entertaining, educational, and as true an' real as he could. So, it was he who decided it be not comedy, or lyric, or satire, but truth in the life an' times of a Dixie-Mafia-Drug-Runner. Yet Comical, Poetical, Lyrical, Novel, Deadly, Fact-full, an' Satire are the words he has penned. Yea, my His-Story of life in the drugged lane! Let us rejoin that there mountain's Harley shop 'cause the goings are gonna get widowed fast. . .
* * *

We meet at a crew members home to talk. Yea, with this guy Ronnie an' his girl. I notice Ronnie is armed, so is his girl friend: .38 specials. I think nothing of it 'cause Dory an' I got guns also. Yea, for safety, 'cause we're always aroun' folks that got guns an' stuff--we just don't carry them so brash 'n bold like. I let Ronnie know what's up, an' that we gotta set up the cooker in a place we've already picked out. An' he's needed to help set up an' cook. He is agreeable. We break up an' set our next meet at the Clubhouse so he can look things over. . .
     Ronnie an' his girl show up at the Clubhouse. Yea, an' this time they are really armed up! Yea. Ronnie's got a break away holster for quick draws. Yea, then Ronnie an' his girl ease into the back of the Club like they been there before.
     "Hi", Ronnie begins, "What's up!?"
     I take in his appearance more thoroughly now: Yea, hippies!
     "This the place?", he questions once more.
     "Yep, sure is", I respond.
     "Nice scooters up front."
     "Yea, belong to Dog . . .you ever work quantity before?"
     "Sure."
     "How much?"
     "8-16 ounces."
     "OK, Here's the deal. We load a 22,000 M.L. cooker with 20 lb. of product. Cook 18 hours. Break it. Wash it with Red Devil Lye. Distill it three times. React with Methamine. Wash again. Then crystallize. We gotta set up the lab an' stuff by this afternoon. Yea, your job is flexible, you can use the lab anytime you want, but don't steal! Yea, it's all inventoried. If you steal, someone will, an' I say it again, some one will come for you!"
* * *

Dog and I are supposed to go to the storage facility, pick up my van, an' then pick up Ronnie. Yea, the van is loaded with the equipment Remmy knocked down an' stored away before we left. Yea, the van is now loaded an' ready to go. At the last minute, though, I change my mind. . . yea, them voices!
     Dog is wanting to know what's up.
     "I don't know", I tell him.
     Dory, having unlimited initiative, reads my mind and says: "Look, I'll take the Porsche and scanner and go pick up Ronnie, you and Dog go get the van."
     Yea, the feeling is all right that way--I agree.
     Dory is going to pick up Ronnie at his ex-wife's house in Tucker and meet me at a Motel and go from there. . . Everyone is paranoid!
. . . Dory is late. I keep waiting, but waiting jus' delivers gross paranoia! I call Ronnie's an' ask for Dory an' a strange male voice answers:
     "She's not here."
     "Who is this?"
     "That's none of your business!"
    A few minutes later I call once more and the same voice answers:
     "Hello."
     "Is Dory there?"
     "No, she's not here."
     "Has she been there?"
     "No, she's not been here."
     I hang up. "Come on Dog, lets go!"
       Dog gets his M-16 and we load up the van and start to back track. We got all the chemicals an' cookers in the back an' we're headed into the storm!
     Pulling into the Cul-de-sac where Ronnie's ex-wife lives, I notice a power company truck with too many workers hangin' around. Yea, my voices are now screaming: "GET OUT OF HERE. . . FORGET THE B---H!" But, I'm committed to the entry 'cause I have already made the turn into the dead end! I continue to slowly travel to where Dory is supposed to be.
     Yea, the house is over a small rise an', as soon as we crest it, I spot the Porsche . . . its trunk open, hood raised, an' two strangers going through its contents!
     G.B.I.!
     I travel down two more drives an' turn around, telling Dog the heat is every where--praying that there prayer you know all about!
     "What you wanna do, Dog?" I ask though I know what I'm gonna do!
   "I'm riding to hell with you!" He says as he loudly places the M-16's safety off.
    "What if they stop us?"
    "I'm riding with you", he says again!
    Yea, Dogs ready!. . .
. .  Yea, an' after all of that, them there cops just stared at the van as we rode right on by!
     Yea, I new what would have happened had they decided to pull us over. Yea, 'cause the memories will get stronger!
* * *

Back at Dog's we were setting up the lab when Remmy an' Ronnie showed up with a story the G.B.I. raided his house. Yea, an Ronnie says he wasn't there. Says his "ex wife got mad at him an' called the cops an' Dory jus' happened to show. Yea, they just got Dory!(?) She's the only one arrested!"
     Dory is charged with possession of marijuana, a .44 magnum and .38 revolver, a briefcase full of chemical research papers, and a hand held police scanner programmed with all of the DEA frequency half-channels.
    Yea, Dory had the scanner turned off. If she had been listening, she would of for sure knew what was up. That there crew of power boys would have been chattering all give away. No bond!
I call James Venable and tell him I need her a bond. Yea, the sharkskin tells me to deliver a grand. I say, OK and slip on out to his back porch in Stone Mountain an' put $1000.00 large in a bean can an' leave.
     I then drive back to Dog's and proceed to cook. We're in a hurry an' get it all started. Yea, like I say, in a hurry!

Mixing P2P an' Methlamine creates a hydrogen burn. Too much Mercuric Chloride and you have too much reaction . . .
     WHOOSH!!!
. . . out of the top of the water bottle against the roof of the garage. We have lost the first one with product dripping from the ceiling! Time to begin all over. . .
     One more time an' we get it right. After 20 hours I take a break. When I come back, Ronnie is holding a huge flask of yellow liquid! I ask him what the heck he is doing an' he says:      "Crystallizing!"
    "I've never seen it done that way", I say an' then ask, "Is it safe?"
    "Sure", Ronnie says, "You are looking at a benzene wash."
     "We use ether 'cause it evaporates 'n is harmless." I reply.
     Ronnie says ether is to hard for him to get. So, he never uses it.
     Well, the first Crank he gets has this sinister benzene yellow color to it. But the hungries are callin' for the dope so I try it an' it's good so it goes immediately into distribution. Yea, I leave Ronnie cookin' an' take Dog to drop the stuff off an' pick up Dory. Yea, she's free!
       Dog is running stuff an' Dory an' I meet in Chamblee at a motel room an' party for 48 hours. Yea, have some come out fun an' return to Dog's to finish up.
      We arrive an' every thing is done gone . . .
     EVERYTHING!
     COOKERS TOO!!
. . . Yea, the only thing we find is a green coat an' a light bill with Ronnie's girlfriend's name on it!
    Yea, Ronnie has come and gone.
* * *

I'm glad my God's grace alone will save me! Yea! That's what the preacher done went an' educated me about a long time ago! Yea, my God's gonna help me grow, meet my daily needs. Yea, He'll allow me to love an' grow. Yea, my God guarantees eternity bliss! An' His blessings are free--never given to me based on my performance; my Christian Duties, you know . .

('Yea, so who needs to do good!!!')

. . . The preacher man has done filled me with so much of that there type Christ that I never, ever, thought of what I'd done to those an' others, an' brothers an' sisters, until I thought of myself--first!

Yea, throughout my journey, I had preached an' prayed every time I was locked up or in a bind . . . an' did it 'cause I knew of that not-to-well-kept Christian secret: "Jesus died an' shed His blood on the Cross for our sins, past, present . . . and future?"
     Yea, some how the fact of our Bible's Apostle Paul an' his words never did seem to cut it:        "One can choose his master, Sin with Death, or Good with Life; eternal!"
     Yea, what happened there!
     Oh, an' this one sort of slipped by that there preacher man: "How can one say he loves his God and love not his brother?"
     Yea, or the words of our Jesus, himself: " If anyone should 'cause one of these little ones to lose his faith in me, it would be better for that person to have a large millstone tied around his neck and be drowned in the deep sea. How terrible for the world that there are things that make people lose their faith! Such things will always happen--but how terrible for the ones who 'cause them!" . . .
. . .Millstone? Yep, gotta be something even larger they're gonna tie aroun' this here neck . . . a large rock of cocaine maybe?!
     Oh, an' one more!
    Galatians 5:19; Paul said "What human nature does is quite plain. It shows itself in immoral, filthy, and indecent actions . . . People become enemies and they fight; they become jealous, angry, and ambitious. They separate into parties and groups, have orgies, and do other things like these. I warn you now as I have before: those who do these things will not possess the Kingdom of God."
     Yea, on every other page I originally wrote this here past decade, I quoted God an' His love an' such. Yea! Like my life's pages were pure in faith--in between those covers of external degraded reality!
     Yea, them there priests, an' preachers, an pastors, and ministers, yea, I wish I would have taken a few along for the journey! Yea, ta' demonstrate the harvest of their crops an' stuff. Yea, show them how much it has meant to me in sowing my perpetuation an' stuff. Yea, introduce them to my orgies an' party animals who were once daughters an' sons of their Father in heaven! Yea, I don't know how many other priests, an' preachers, an' pastors, an' ministers an' stuff got to rework them there screwed up heads an' stuff--opening a ton of drug treatment programs an' such . . . while callin' for change in this here world . . . while still sowin' the same crop!
Yea, Nolin was caught up like I got caught up. Yea, so would Dory. An' most of the others. Yea, when have you not seen an Italian Mafia movie that don't have funerals with priests a prayin' all over them there murderers? Yea, old Al Pacino done giving his kids up to that same God at a Catholic Baptism while his boys are wasting half of New York?
     Learn the truth for the truth will set you free!
     Remember that there thing I told you? The one about my God coming for me? Yea, He'd open these here eyes--an' not with a bunch of teachin's an' stuff that pulled the wool, but by the truth that set me free! Free of the wranglin' of doctrine an' sufferin'! Yea, I discovered the real Christian secret! Yea, the one that's kept in the dark an' is delivering so many souls unto the depths of that there Hell they're always talkin' so much about. Yea, the one that says eternal life is not free for the askin' . . . 'cause free is not free unless one lives in that there world that the ticket gains entrance too!
     If one don't pay his dues one don't truly belong in that there Kingdom! Yea, 'cause Faith costs . . . yea, it costs a whole lot of stopping them there things we like to do. Yea, 'cause them there needs I was talkin' about? Well, Faith also means given up the things that are not right to our brothers. Yea, one has to change his needs to be in relationship with his God. Those self-indulging needs imposed upon ourselves by our selfish, foolish, endeavors only prove that we are not one with our God . . . yea, my God will forgive me over an' over an' over again as long as I make every conscious effort to bring about proper choices!!!
     But, it ain't that time yet. Yea, 'cause I'm mad as that there Hell an' I ain't gonna take anymore . . . than that there Hippie Critters Life! . . . Yea, A Kentucky Fried Crispy Critter's Critter he be . . . by hook or snook . . . 12 down an' 10 to go to nowhere but further down . . .
* * *
 
I WANT HIS BUTT!!!
     Yea, but before I can make a move, I gotta make some calls an' wait. Yea, an' that waiting is gonna be a drag to this here Wizard! We have a place in the country, 40 acres right near a lake, a place we use when the hectic, every day pressures get too much. No phones, no fools, no pets . . . yea, just we: Dory, me--an' my mind minding mind. . .
     Lake Hartwell, relax, there's a decision that's gotta be made. I'm broke, busted, disgusted an', at these Kodak moments, not to be trusted! Yea, like I never thought much of the world of violence. I've mainly been a put together brother--leaving that there violent stuff to them what's violent. But, when I'm down, a rattler with circumstanced tail I am!
     A few days an' word comes that Ronnie's not nobody to anybody. Yea, I'm ready to go an' make 'im somebody . . . some dead body. But, you know, Dory done got under my mind's thin skin for personnel violence with her words an' thoughts:
      "Relax, we need to let him wait awhile until his edge drops. Yea, the stuff is safe--you know that. He cannot sell any large quantity 'cause the word is out among the big buyers. Yea, he's gotta thousand dollar it an' it will take a while for him to do even that. Yea, with all that stuff, Ronnie an' his old lady are going to freeze out for at least a couple of weeks! Give him a week or so and then we'll find him with his guard down. Yea, so, relax, think about it!"
     Days in the sun . . . afternoons in the cold, deep lake . . . nights around a camp fire . . . an' the withdrawals begin. . .
     You see, Dory an' I had no illusions about the difficulty we faced. Years of sitting around speed junkies doing their thing had taught us the cold facts of speed's possessiveness' . . .
"Speed is The Landlord That Never Sleeps", junkies sigh as they get high an' stories fly--those fruitless attempts to negotiate a way off that there super-craving highway which loops their minds: sharpening your syringe on a matchbook to rid the barbs sprouting fertile grounds of heated-dull-red worn steel, then the shot that runs large an' causes you to dump them there barbed stickers into the trash with exclamations of "this time I'm quitting . . . for real . . .I'm not kidding . . . I'm through . . . that was the last . . . I swear " . . .
. . . on Mothers-Fathers-Daughters-Sons-Wives-Puppies-an' what ever else walks talks breaths or exists . . .
. . . an four hours later they spy you digging 'n rummaging in that there trash for one that works . . . as in one of them "works" . . .
. . . "I was free of that there Landlord for a whole week!" exclaims the junkie with a laugh, "I was lying there watching crank bugs crawl out of the ceiling, proud like, when he came out from nowhere . . . the Landlord's face truly exposed for the first time!"
"Yea! What he look like?"
"DemonMeCravingSoMuch!". . .
. . .The Landlord is right! I crawl across that ceiling a bug . . . ged out with restlessness an' irritability to spiral on down-right-to-depression!
A deep 'n soulless, craving depression that drives one mad with estimations on who's got supply. . .
. . . But the only supply I can estimate is the adequate supply of our addiction: 'Dory an' I, lets see, how many grams do we need?'
Yea, that's where it truly begins; the timeless agonies of memory an' rationalization:'I began using a single gram a day. Yea, experienced folks use 4 a day--but one does not last long using more than that. Yea, so what up, I'm using an eight-ball a day, yea, 3 1/2 grams times two what makes two junkies doing a quarter ounce per day between them! Yea, 7 days . . . um! . . . comes to almost two whole ounces! How much could we . . .'
. . . an' then every vision of every time, place, face and taste of Crystal-Meth runs rampant within the corridors of the Landlord's keeper: your mind!
. . . a visual light an' sound show of torment with desire!
. . . an I realize I've been there all of my life. Yea, the few ups were plenty soft an' warm, but the many downs as hard as frozen ice. . .
. . . by now the mind is zipping an' zapping along an' soon begins the incoherent speech an' illusions an' then . . . the dreaded hallucinations. .
. . . Bang! Suddenly one begins their journey into that portal of questions an' answers . . . once more . . .
. . ."How many shots can we squeeze from a gram!" . . .
. . . Desire for salt-like crystals overwhelms all . . .
. . . to the point of hands an' knees upon the floor digging in the carpet, under the sink, in an' out of dresser draws, pockets of dirty clothing, under floor mats, on top of shelves . . .
. . . "yea, gotta be some I stashed once or dropped once or hid once or lost once or DAMN IT!"
"DAMN ME AN' DAMN EVERYBODY!!!"
. . . Dory's nose is running--mine too!
'If we only had some damn speed'
YEA, we would bath in it . . . eat it . . . place it in our ears . . . every orifice . . . overflowing with smooth 'n soothing crystal ice . . . like dry an' thirsting sponges . . . we . . . sucking up every crystal . . . expanding once more . . . our starving mind tissue . . . denied their urgency . . . once indulged . . . transform this pang of despair into expanding pleasure . . .
. . . eyes watering--skin itching with the drum beat of desire an' pain an' need . . . ready to sell everything we got or don't got; everything we own or don't own . . . our very bodies. . . I think . . . of the bodies I did to . . . an' done to . . . an' done got out of . . . so many bodies convulsing . . an' pleading . . an' craving . . . an' I'm craving . . . an' pleading . . . an' convulsing . . .
. . . estimating shots are replaced by pounds: 'how many shots can I get from a 20 pound batch! . . . Yea, that's what I'm gonna do! Cook a twenty pound batch an' hide it! . . .
. . . Yea, but not all in one place! . . . I'm gonna bury small bits, tiny bits, crystal bits' . . .
. . .'How many quarters in twenty pounds?'. . .
. . . chills 'n sweat a beading an' pouring in sheets of hot an' cold . . . from one moment to the next beset by cramps . . . an' vomiting--nothing at all . . . but. . . pitiful cries . . . reach my ears . . . disgusting . .
. . . 'if I hear you crying I'll whip you myself' . . .
. . . 'who is that there lonely, nervous, starving, weak-minded boy getting whooped by that bully Crank?'. . .
. . . 'I'm scared Pop 'cause that there Rose Bush is growing inside of me!' . . .
* * *

Yep, it didn't take long for that there withdrawal stuff to make up my mind: I have to find Ronnie!
Yea, I gotta get my crank back. With retail at $100 per gram X 28 X 16 X 20, it comes to around $900,000. Wholesale at half that an' that's a lot of green! Yea, an' don't forget Dog, he's owed his share of a twenty pound cook. That's about $150-250,000. Yea, an' Remmy's supposed to get his pounds worth. Yea, an' I gotta pay these debts an' I got zip. . .
Dory an' I call Slick Rick, another brother. I tell him to call Ronnie's beeper and set up a buy; a personal buy, that is. "How much?" he asks.
     "A thousand will do."
* * *

Memorial day, 1987.
A Huddle House meet of ageless portrayal: Miami Vice Atlanta style . . .
     Cruising down the road towards destiny. Dory at the wheel, Slick Rick Shotgun, an' me, I'm slouched in the back in a loose captain's chair.
     Coming up on the Huddle House, Dory moves into the right lane an' begins pulling in as I scan an' locate Ronnie's ride.
     Into the parking lot an' Dory parks smack in front of Ronnie's car! Yea, his car is pinned between the van an' the restaurant wall; can't move an inch.
     Slick Rick gets out an' approaches Ronnie. Yea, my mind was spinning with thought! Yea, but you know, it was hard enough not to just jump out and whack the bastard right then an' there! But, I want an amicable ending to this nightmare. Yea, kept others off this jerks back--those whom begged me to let them blow his head off . . . free! Yea, but I did not want that there blood on my hands. No way! With all the others resting in my mind, others that I really had nothing to do with the spilling of their blood. Yep, jus' wanted to get what was mine an' forgive him of any losses I would have to eat from his consumption an' minor sales. Yea, I knew that there were others whom had their sights an' claims on them there bones . . . he would get his! Yea, pay-backs get dead, 'cause the suspicions of him having Dory busted, getting Tex busted, ripping off Big Jim an' my storage house, searching Big Jim's place, yea, an' much, much, more had done rung true an' the Big Guy's Widow in waiting was surely right around the corner!
     From my seat I see Slick Rick an' Ronnie talking. Yea, he's never seen the van an' he ain't got a near clue. The Captain's chair I'm sitting in is not mounted to the floor 'cause the van has been used to move supplies, so it swivels nice an easy an' tips with a slight weight transfer so I can open the cargo door with out getting up.
      WALLAH! I have a full view of Ronnie an' his girl friend sitting in their car. Yea, you should have seen his first reaction when he saw a Jonesin' me sitting there lookin' nice an' pissed off! I motion for Ronnie to come over an' he acts unconcerned by finishing his tid-bit conversation with Slick Rick.
    Yea, he then looks up at me contemplating shoot out an' escape, but decides against it and pulls his weapon an' slides it over to his girl.
     Now, when I see this, I know there is only two reasons for him to do so: first is she would have a better chance than Ronnie to lay a hit on me, the other, a more plausible reason, is he don't want to approach the van an' me packing--yea, no excuses for caps a blasting and such. Yea, I think, the latter is the correct one 'cause his lady always had a gun of her own. Yea, I think, this will go down smooth an' I can get straight now! Yea, straighten Dory an' I up, some Crank back, yea, better than that, I'm gonna be double back to The Landlord!
Ronnie gets out an' approaches: "What's up?"
    'Yea, so damn simple-What's up!?!' . . . "Where's my stuff.'
     "What stuff?"
     "I told you about that there stealing! So, don't play no games or your gonna have a problem!!"
. . . I see the move the second he begins his forward motion . . . no hesitation an' auto-reflex done lifts my right arm up an' out of the black carry all besides my chair . . .
. . ."$%#$ You!" He announces as he steps up an' into the van, his hand clenched tightly into a fist an' goin' straight-outstretched in a striking motion. . .
. . .hand wrapped tightly around the 20 gauge sawed-off I've always kept but never thought I'd have to use 'n swinging it up an' out . . .
. . . as Ronnie's left hand slaps out against the barrel an' swings it towards the rear upsetting my balance . . .
. . . the captain's chair begins to turn over as thoughts of Troy an' Nolin rip through my mind . . .
('those rumors of how they both died an' Nolin, him stealing fifty pounds of pot from Dean and coming to my house with the damn stuff loaded in his trunk even though we had the Kansas thing goin' strong screams out for me to recall an' pray 'Oh! Lord, don't let this struggle truly lead to whom ever comes up with the gun this time an' the next time you know about ALREADY!')
. . . I manage to bring the gun back under his arm an up an'. . .
. . . Ronnie sees the gun come up an' breaks contact turnin' to run . .
. . . the chair falls backwards an' instinctively I pull the pistol grip stock of the gun into the floor to stop the momentum and. . .
BOOM!!!

Yea, my chapter 13 was my bankruptcy an' time to hit the run . . . yep, Dory an' I, running for our lives to no where fast but further death an' destruction . .