Maverick Jetpants In The City Of Quality - Plot & Excerpts
His hands have molten off and his arms are burning, and you can tell it’s Fearjaw because of his long banana-shaped jaw and hat-and-feather and stubby Mario Bros. legs. I can’t even tell which is worse, because the day after, on TV, two fires occur at two of the city’s larger homeless shelters. Police find part of a pink Swatch watch and some burnt wire casing at a small explosion that happened near the rear, smoking-break entrance of the Frederick Douglass Shelter. At Roads Home, police find a broken window, and on the pile of clothing directly below it, traces of what they call accelerants. So the homeless go back to the Cadillac Hotel, or under Broad Street to the old subway. Or they go to Midtown Plaza, where there’s Applebee’s Baghdad, where me and Lip Cheese, tonight, go too. Because the soda at this Applebee’s, he says, is the most carbonated in all of Rochester. We’re sitting at one of the round high tables. At least three overhead table lamps are broken. Lip Cheese stares out at the Plaza’s center court, where there’s this Spirit-Bunny-type girl, standing by the court’s fountain, which the managers shut off because people were washing their clothes in it.
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