drugs
First: I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper I throw away at Washington Square Station, vault a turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs, catch an uptown A train...
Last: "No glot... ...C'lom fliday"
First: "What’s it going to be then, eh?"
Last: And all that cal.
First: They’re out there.
Last: I been away a long time.
First: We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.
Last: I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger...a Man on the Move, and just sick enough to be totally confident.
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