I felt like an agent under-cover, outside of society, but in their eyes I was an assassin, fermenting rabid evil across the globe. I knew it was bullshit though it still seeped into my dreams at night. My customers valued the services, with me brimming punch proud, providing high impact powder without risk, at the best price in town. I had arrived at the Golden Sands early, getting straight into the heroin after a lay off. By the time my girlfriend joined my soaked sojourn for the hand-over it was already too late. With no drugs available in heaven, it was imperative I got my fill on earth.

I rented a suitable vechile, a snazzy ex-police car the old siren still operational, and I was soon driving it at every chance, unable to resist the occasional burst. It worked brilliantly, all cars moving aside, allowing me my rightful place on the road. Without access for a while, a sudden onslaught of Penang pink rocks had launched me into oblivion. It was incredible how fast I got accustomed to saturation, taking on huge amounts with no apparent effect. My comfortable new home had a warm, rosy glow, and I would do whatever necessary to clutch those keys.

My mission was secreting 400grams of heroin into The Sanyo, to hand to my girlfriend for her short cruise to Singapore. That packaging progressed well, until it came to replacing some screws. When she arrived by taxi from the dock, I was still struggling, insisting unreasonably that I was up to it. I clearly wasn't, away with the fairies. The more intense I became, the more those buggers burred, difficult morphing into impossible. Finally she had to wrestle the recorder from me, soothing my painful, ego-crushing admission by saying calmly,

"There'll be more time when I get them on board. Just leave it; I'll take care of it later."

That disaster averted, I insisting on driving to the boat in my rental for the 11pm sailing. I recall hurtling along a precarious, cliff-edge road like Fangio, going like the clappers, siren blaring, and pupils straining through heavy, tropical rain in complete dark. It was exhilarating and magnificent madness, with me nodding off at the wheel, hands not getting orders, all signals scrambled.

I'm sure my terrified, knuckle-clenching girlfriend was more relieved to exit my adventure, than scared of her trafficking ordeal ahead. But my drama wasn't over. The solo return drive was more outrageous, a thin strip of moon-light piercing a turbulent torrent, squinting through pin-eyes for focus, all to a wailing siren. Shit it felt good mission finished, my hunched head kept upright by the steering-wheel. In the end I was forced to pull over, the energy exerted staying awake quickly daining me.

The Duracell bunny had lost all pow.e..r.