“You’re another one of these California boys,” he said. “Your friend here’s been tellin’ me about dope fiends.” “They’re everywhere,” I said. “Nobody’s safe. And sure as hell not in the South. They like the warm weather.” “They work in pairs,” said my attorney. “Sometimes in gangs. They’ll climb right into your bedroom and sit on your chest, with big Bowie knives.” He nodded solemnly. “They might even sit on your wife’s chest—put the blade right down on her throat.” “Jesus God almighty,” said the southerner. “What the hell’s goin’ on in this country?” “You’d never believe it,” said my
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