"But you don't mind if I smoke some do you? You wouldn't tell Daddy?" You mean here?" I asked. "Now?" Yeah." She nodded, smiling. "I've got a joint on...me that I'm just itching to burn. You're a cool guy, aren't you?"I thought about it for a moment, finally deciding that if she wanted to smoke a joint in the plane, it wasn't my concern. After all, her old man was known to snort a little cocaine on occasion (and believe me, unless you're very rich, it's almost impossible these days to acquire. It was only that Angela took such cruelty to another level.One Sunday night, after having a few drinks with some of the guys from work, I returned home to find several unusual cars in the driveway. When I entered, I found about six or seven men, all in their late teens or early twenties, sitting around the living room and watching a basketball game on the television. I didn't even stop to ask them who they were. I just kept on going. Angela was in the kitchen with Bambi and Sara."What's going. More

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