The Kings Of Cool

43

The store opens, but — the guys keep making runs.

Because “enough” is a self-contradictory word.

Enough is never enough.

Finally- finally — surfers found something they could make money at without getting a j-o-b. And money they make. Fuck, they make money. Millions of dollars of the stuff. They even buy a yacht to hang out in and sail dope up in from Mexico.

Cool and cool.

But Doc Doc is a visionary.

A pioneer, an explorer.

Doc hops a plane to Germany, buys a VW van, and drives drives to Afghanistan.

Doc has heard stories about the amazing potency of Afghan hashish.

The stories turn out to be true.

Grass is fine, but Afghan hash?

Synaptic pinball, lighting all the lights, ringing all the bells.

Winner, winner, winner.

So Doc loads his van up with hash, drives back to Europe, and ships the van to California. Throws a few tasting parties, gives some samples away, and creates a market for his product.

It isn’t long before the other Association boys follow Doc’s footsteps to Afghanistan and load cars, trucks, and vans up with hash. The most ingenious smuggling vessel, though, is the surfboard. One genius ships a board to Kandahar, hollows it out, and stuffs it with hash, because nobody at the airport knows what a surfboard is or, critically, how much it should weigh. And no one even asks what a guy is doing with surfboards in a place where there’s no ocean.

All this shit comes back to Laguna.

Pretty soon Laguna Canyon fills up with houses full of dope and houses full of dopers. The canyon is so full of outlaws that the cops dub it “Dodge City.”