"Remember," she spoke, "Remember Michael, be careful. Don't get caught."

We were speeding down the highway, smoke escaping our car. The year was 1967 and life couldn't have possibly been better. I mean how could it not be? Myself and Stevie were the big psychedelic drug dealers around Venice in Los Angeles. In fact, if I can recall we had once sold to a man named Jim Morrison. However with the fact that my mind is now fried, I haven't a clue if that was him or not, or if I was in fact strung out on Cocaine or LSD.
That day had been like any other day really. The sky was blue, great music was pouring out of our royal blue 63' Mustang. We were on our way to sell some of our illegal substances to anyone who wanted them, to anyone who was willing to experience what everyone was now so fondly talking about. And to anyone who wanted to further their mind into the world of psychedelics. I remember that me and Stevie were smoking a doobie and every street we turned, there seemed to be a police car.
I believe that it was somewhere around the afternoon time when we were driving to Long Beach. We were going to pick up my gorgeous sun blond haired beauty. She of course was skinny, like that of most women around the area. Her eyes were that like the vibrant sky. And her name was Catherine. We were about halfway there when The Doors had started to blare from the radio station. I smiled at this and finished off the joint.
"Stevie man, life is great. Life is just fucking great. Y'know that? It's the best it could ever be," I said. "I mean look man, we're getting big money from dealing all of this acid...it's just great."
"Far out man," he replied. "Far fucking out."
I closed my eyes and laughed a bit, "Man, we're gods. Yah see? God made the man who made this drug, God made it so that we would be these big riches. Who would've thought we'd be these big riches. And from selling acid! Radical."
"Ahhhhh!" Stevie yelled, or sang, "Come on baby light my fireee, come on baby light my fire. Try to set the night on FIREEEEEEEEE-AHHHH!"
Stevie, let me describe him. He was my partner in crime; partner in drug trade rather. We had known each other for longer than I can remember. And I couldn't imagine us doing anything else with our life's then just this. I mean of course, it was a terrible job to do, but we gave the people what they needed most.

What I remember happening then was that we had visited Catherine, spared her some acid for free - as always, and were now walking along the beach. I still remember the cool of the summer's sand crawling in between my toes. The sun was setting now, and it looked beautiful. Stevie and I had taken a hit of acid about a few minutes before and were now waiting for the effects. For as long as I can recall, I never had a bad trip. And I was grateful for that, because I saw what they did to Stevie. I don't remember much of that trip though to share. Although, I do remember waking up on a huge rock that was by the ocean water. And Stevie himself was laying upon the sand.
When we got to the car that day, something felt off. Or it felt like something bad was about to happen, but I brushed this off. I remember how when we got into that car we were high as a kite. Obviously due to the weed we had smoke, the huge amount of weed that was. I remember feeling like I was unstoppable, but the events that were very soon to follow would prove otherwise.
We were driving back to Venice when it had happened. Our minds are swarming around in the weed and we were still psyched out from the acid the night before. I don't remember all of what happened in between our leave from Long Beach back to Venice. However, what I do remember was that we were waiting for the light to turn green and there was a police cruiser beside us. It didn't get the either of us paranoid though when usually it would have. It seemed though that since we had left Long Beach, they were following us - and we were never aware. And as soon as that light turned green, when we had turned left, the police turned on their sirens. This had startled me quite. I was aware that we still had pounds of weed in the trunk, and tons of blotter papers. When Stevie pulled over, he had his eyes fixed on me. We both knew the consequences of having this in our possession, and being high.
The only thing I remember is them seizing all of those drugs, those glorious drugs that got me and Stevie through the days, the drugs that had kept us off the streets by selling them. Sometimes, when I am lonely in this ole' prison cell, I think of all those glorious days when we were untouchable.