“Big man,” I called out, “You feel proud with that knife of yours?”
You should try giving him a basketball to show off with instead. It might turn out to be crazy what kind of dunks this guy has.
He turned towards me, “Fuck you! I’m not scared of bugs.”
Oh, you should be.
Lung didn’t seem to be scared of bugs either, and look what that got him. A rotting crotch is what.
I stepped down from the back of the truck. People backed away, but the man held his ground. As I got closer, I saw how his eyes were too wide, and he chewed his lip like it was trying to get away from him.
Symptoms of drug use?
“You a member of the Merchants?” I asked.
“Fuck you!” he snarled.
Sounds like a yes to me.
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