I stole boxing gloves from K-Mart, it is not in the story. I masturbated to MiGs, it is not in the story. I scraped the edges of my sundae with a wooden spoon, it is not in the story. I masturbated my friend under the table in the library, it is not in the story. I was briefly in love with Duran Duran, it is not in the story.
Jerry sported gold chains, even when he broke the bread, the body of Jesus, and passed the little cups of water, the blood of Jesus. It was a thin one, there were thicker ones. It was the end of 1980s, North Las Vegas. French kissing was in the air. Here is a gold chain, fromContinue reading “Gold Chains and French Kissing”