As it was… it happened in 1987, when I was 16. At an age when most girls are going to discos and ensnaring pimply boys with their sticky lipgloss an... overuse of cheap perfume, I was engaged in a never-ending round of doctor and hospital appointments, my face bandaged for weeks like some unfortunate monster in a Hammer Horror film. When the bandages finally came off I somehow expected to be healed, to be miraculously taken back to the girl I had been. Instead the livid gash stretched from my. .”Emboldened, I shouted, “I Won’t Be WHERE Long!!??!!”My challenge was ignored. That told me even more about this ghastly visitation. My tormenter had no answers, yet sought to stop me from some act that would either kill him, or hurt him badly enough to keep him from his purpose for living.“You will not be here long...”If he thought that would strike terror into my heart, he was unsuccessful. His mantra made me madder, not scared.“Be Gone, Ghost. You have no power over me.”And just like that,. I hope in your splurging you didn’t forget the...”Jennifer blushed a bit. “Of course not!” she said with some indignation. “That was the first thing I got. I also got stuff for my teeth, for my hair and even some lipstick. I know I need to look good for the current man in my life.”That last comment took me by surprise but I didn’t say anything.When we got to the aid station, I had one of the EMTs look at Jennifer’s arm. His diagnosis was what I had suspected – a green stick fracture – and he. It abso-fuckin'-lutely weren't mah fault. OK, I had alcohol on mah breath, but it were just two lousy beers. Awright, so maybe it was eight or nine, I'd lost count. An' maybe I were speeding in mah little two seater rag top, but what the fuck would you expect at two in the fucking A.M. on a deserted road marked with a lousy 25 speed limit. An' so what if I wuz wearin' mah Daisy Mae cut-offs and mah scoop-neck blouse with mah bare tits showing for anybody tall enough an' ballsy enough to look.