I’ve had two doubles already, and I’m getting over that nervous feeling I have around lesbians.
We used to play “See how many lesbians you can French kiss before one of them figures out you’re a boy.”
I’m not into the violence; I’m too busy thinking.
Michelle has stopped punching the guy nearest me and looks up. The guy looks unconscious. I’ve never seen someone beaten unconscious before. That’s lesbians for you.
I feel the way bank robbers must feel before they go out on that last job that ends up getting them all killed. That is to say, optimistic.
Walmarts eat mom-and-pop shops, malls eat the Walmarts, and super-malls (like this one here) eat all the little malls, chewing them like gum, and stretching them across six floors and eight blocks of conformity. It’s disgusting. But if you’re in the mood to cause trouble, there’s nowhere better.
Richard’s trying to smile, but not doing a very good job of it.