Excerpt for Vicki & the Vicodin by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Internet Praise for Victoria Timm’s Writing:

“What the fuck are you doing wasting your time nursing old people? You should be writing professionally. Seriously. Steven King/Ray Bradbury adjacent, I think”


“Very Original”---Nemo01

great story!---onewingedangel87

Dark...very dark. You, quite possibly, are one of the funniest writers I have ever read. And equally bonkers!---Kryptons-Finest

Love your writing! Very well done. ---splendiferous

lol that was a great story.---Roland007

This is fucking magnificent on every possible level. I want to propose marriage to this woman. This story is seriously moving and brilliant. Thank you so much for posting,


OMG that was fucking HOT!---Kelly2Serve

Super hot story. Hope it's all true. You are brilliant and sexy and have great mental plasticity. Kudos. ---MasculineHorndog

My Gawd... Vivid!!!---BlackMaster1948

Fucking superb. Well played ma’am---miltopo

OMG I fucking adore you! I read this this morning and it has had me laughing all day thinking about it. (Which I have to admit, has then made me smirk even more. "If only people knew what I was thinking about right now....") You have an awesome sense of humor. Love, love, love it! ---Sharanya

love ur sensa huma, honky trashgirl!---GypsieCowboy

Holy hell, that's well written! If the story has some truth to it: um, er…


That was hot, made me wish I was in her place.---jstarre

Vicki & the Vicodin

by Victoria Timm

c. 2019


To all the hard-working Drug Dealers in the world.


To the Genius of Ayn Rand, the first and best advocate of the NAP, or Non-Agression Principle.

That, and for her inspiration as a writer.

I realized that if she could learn English as a second language, and then go on to write The Great American Novel, then any excuses that the rest of us had for NOT writing, were just that: Excuses.


Suffering from a touch of writer’s block this week, I rang-up fellow rape-writer Raymond Paul, to see if he could give me any dirty ideas. After all, pretty much all of his ex’s end up getting raped. [You can pick up his debut story “Rx for Rape” for less than a buck at fine booksellers such as Barnes & Noble, or Name Your Price for it on Smashwords.]

“Tell the story of that time when you had your wisdom teeth out, but had to work that night, and the Pharmaceutical Rep gave you those pills.”

“I’m a rape-writer” I reminded him. “My readers don’t want to hear about my toothache!”

“You really don’t remember what happened that night? Oh please, please can we do a three-way with Niger?”

Niger Lee Jackson is also a member of our rape-writers team. But back in the day, he was a bouncer at this upscale hotel nightclub where I used to work layin’ whiskey down. (They’d say “Vicki! Fetch another round. I’d serve them whiskey—and whine.)

Niger’s big. And Black. The stuff that all white girls’ rape nightmares are made of. [If you haven’t read any of his stories, start with “Life Gives You Lemons”. It’s a masterpiece! Here’s a Smashwords Coupon: JT64V ]

So I conferenced him in, switched to speakerphone, and sat down at my keyboard, while the boys together filled in the blank spots of my memory of that night, so many years ago.

They talked. I typed…

Vicki & the Vicodin

I remember Vicki. Swimsuit model body, except with bigger boobs. Natural blonde hair, big 80's style. And, in keeping with the 80's I'm sure the carpet matched, cuz it was before the fully shaved look came into vogue. All of 22 years of age. A cocktail waitress at the classiest place in town, which was a hotel bar. I hung out there.

Even on a slow night, she'd pull $100 in tips, easy. Yet she always seemed to be broke. She'd had 2 wisdom teeth extracted earlier that day, but still came in to work as scheduled, because she needed the money. She hadn't requested any pain medicine, because, unbeknownst to the dentist, I'm sure, her plan was to self-medicate with whiskey and cocaine, which obviously should have been against the rules at a Hilton Hotel, but who was gonna say anything?

The dentist, concerned, made her take along a handful of Tylenol 3 samples, "just in case". And when the Novocain wore off, and cocaine, applied both topically and as an inhalant, barely took the edge off, she washed down a pair of the Tylenol with a shot of Crown Royal. Which was enough to interfere with her ability to do her job properly, but not enough to keep the pain at bay.

A pharmaceutical rep was staying at the hotel that night, and he bellied up to the bar while Vicki was whining. "Tylenol? After a wisdom teeth extraction? Barbarians! They might as well have just given you baby aspirin. You need Vicodin! Here, take one of these when your shift is over." Then he handed her two more larger dose ones, and told her that if she took those, she'd be pain free all day tomorrow, too.

He was gone when she came back from the ladies room. And now, she REALLY couldn't do her job. Couldn't walk straight, much less while carrying a tray of drinks. Slurring her speech badly. And watching her try to make change was hilarious. Nobody corrected her. We were all regulars, and we'd figure out the right amount ourselves, and correct it by adjusting the tip. And besides, the entertainment value was worth being shorted a few bucks.

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