CHAPTER THREE (1)

But what was going on inside the van was too exciting. A Sublime smile had now formed on Katz’ face as needles poked and prodded him, as chemicals of various kinds were being pushed into his blood.

“What in hell are you giving him!?” Cried Mitzi as he pushed on the gas with his right foot. He made an extreme U-turn out of this fore-saken Ditrict 11, and speeded at the Mark III’s will – as fast as it could go – out of this hell-hole. No more the natives – the bums who had plagued him with their skeletal faces, the men (if you could call them that) with their scruffy faces and dying auras – could locate him in this diseased land. Mitzi, in all of his essences, fled. He fled something as he’s never fled before.

“Morphine, he needs relief. HE NEEDS RELIEF!!!” The doctor said rapidly

Katz was certainly responding to his “relief.” His eyes, those glazed, inhuman bulbs, twirled towards Mitzi, saying “Come on, I need RELIEF.” Whether he did or not, Mitzi couldn’t decide.

“Oh – so you’d give this relief to someone like Katz, but not to a native in dire need. I see…” said Mitzi, who wasn’t really focusing on the life of Katz, but really on the life of himself and vaguely on the life of all the rest in the moving vehicle. He quickly turned towards the enveloping scene in the back, and realized that Katz’s eyes found nothing but his.

The eyeballs were a metallic yellow, pupils looking defiantly into his. Why wouldn’t you let me have relief? You are just like me you piece of foul manure. You couldn’t handle what I’ve learned about the real world, you couldn-

 

CHAPTER THREE: Work and Work

 

Squirley woke to a start. The blinds let in bread-sliced visions of light rays onto his black skin. He fidgeted under his warm oven of covers, and fell back asleep. This would be the right way to go today, the warm oven. Always the warm oven of covers. It was no use now, trying to go back to sleep. Toddy was squirming under his linens on the floor, it was no use, it was just simply no use now. They both had woken under the 2 pm warm sun.

“You gotta be at work in an hour.” Said Ryan, ashe unsheathed himself from the comfotor.

“Says you, the man whose slept on an actual mattress.”

Toddy rose from the floor, his boxers half off. His chest betrayed flabby man-boobs. There was hair showing definitely from the nipples, but no real he-man hair. Despite the fact that he was 30, he had not a real forest grown on his chest. It didn’t really bother him in any way.

“Regardelss, you gotta be at work.”

Toddy reached for his white pressed shirt, or what should have been his white pressed shirt. He swathed himself in it, rolled on his rumpled Dickies and buckled the black belt. He suddenly looked like a half-dressed Ritto.