A tough kid comes to a new high school and begins muscling his way into the drug scene. As he moves his way up the ladder, a schoolteacher tries to reform him, his aunt tries to seduce him, and the "weedheads" are eager to use his newly found enterprise, but he has his own agenda. After an altercation involving fast cars, hidden drugs, and police, he's accepted by the drug kingpin and is off into the big leagues. A typical morality play of the era, filled with a naive view of drugs, nihilistic beat poetry, and some incredible '50s slang. Written by
Ed Sutton <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Behind these "nice" school walls... A TEACHERS' NIGHTMARE!...A TEEN-AGE JUNGLE!
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My old man was a bread stasher all his life. He never got fat. He wound up with a used car, a 17-inch screen and arthritis. Tomorrow is a drag, man, tomorrow is a king-sized bust. // They cried, "Put down pot. Don't think a lot." For what? Time how much and what to do with it. Sleep, man, and you might wake up diggin' the whole human race, givin' itself three days to get out. Tomorrow is a drag, pops, the future is a flake. // I had a canary who couldn't sing. I had a cat that let me share my ...