New York City, New York. Carey. The cops said Debbie tried to light a cigarette and her wig went up in flames. That’s how she died. Officially speaking. Were cops this fucking stupid everywhere, or was it just in New York City? I was trying to drink away the anger, but the parasites had been out in force ever since Jezza hooked up with the blond girl in the scuffed flannel shirt. They were not helping ease my jangled nerves. “Like this?” the kid with the Elmer’s glue holding his hair into little spikes asked another. “No, it’s more bouncy,” the other parasite, a pretty young thing with safety pins in her ears, corrected him, hopping up and down. She was trying to teach him some kind of dance. It was apparently the punk thing to do now, this hopping up and down. She bounced for a few seconds, her tits heaving every which way. “Like this?” Elmer Spikes asked again, shuffling from foot to foot like an angry ape. “No,” Safety Pins answered, bouncing again, “watch me.”
