Out of the corner of my right eye, following the edge of the road, I pedal my bicycle to the station and ask, “Hey Art, can you get me some acid?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says coolly. “Right now, I’m dealing in two-man tabs of Purple Haze and its three bucks a tab.”

I had no idea what Art meant about a two-man-tab, as this is my first drug buy, but I do remember hearing a song by Jimmy Hendrix singing about, “Purple Haze all in my brain.” 

“That sounds okay,” I tell him a bit leery, “But three bucks is a lot of money for me and I’ll need some time.” 

I need to figure out a way to get some cash. An idea hits me. My dad is extremely generous to all of us, and he will do anything to encourage us to excel. I have a very clever scam going on during my typing class, and think I can use it to make a few bucks.