Diary of a Drug Fiend

Towards Madness arr I put myself out for King Lamus? “ Every step he treads is smeared with blood,” as Gretel once said. Yes, in some infernal way he had made me one of his victims. ‘‘ All right—you shall get enough magical diary to let you know that I’m out of your clutches— I’ll put down just those things which will tell you how I hate you—how I have outwitted you—and you shall read them when my Dead Soul has got a Dead Body to match it.” September 14 I expected Peter would be in; impatient to know if I'd wangled McCall. Instead, he turned up after twelve, full of champagne and—SNOW! My aunt, what a lucky day! He was boiling with passion, grabbed me like a hawk. “Well, old girl,” he shouted, “what luck with McCall ? ” I produced my package. ‘“‘ Hurrah, all our troubles are over!” We opened our last three half-bottles of fizz to celebrate the occasion, and he gave me some coke. And I thought I didn’t like it! It’s the finest stuff there is. A sniff to the right and a sniff to the left and a big heap right on my tongue; and that wasn't all. “I tell you what’s been wrong,” he said in the morning. ‘‘ Who the hell could expect to be right in a place like this? I’ve got right on to the ropes. We need never run short any more. We'll go down to Barley Grange and have another honeymoon. You're my honeysuckle, and I’m your bee.” _ He went and flung open the door and shouted for the woman to pack our things while we went out to breakfast, and have the bill ready. *‘ What infernal fools we are,’’ he cried as we went sailing down the street to the Wisteria, where you can get real French coffee and real English bacon. We looked at ourselves in the long mirror. We