Nymphet whores cascaded down Main Street in giant stiletto heels. Crack monkeys in sharp threads, wearing sharper faces tapped the windows of passing cars. ”Weed?, speed?, meth?, smack?, crack?, crank?, acid?” Sample sewn satin linings opened like bat wings. “I can turn you on.”

Suburban voyeurs were being hassled by dealers, whores and panhandle cops. Fledglings crunched pork rinds as they pitter pattered through pools of blood that awaited the rain. Zebras and lions stalked the crowded sidewalks, vultures fed on carrion. It was a dog eat dog world, only they ate all the dogs a long time ago. The cops frisked the feeble hearted for dope and pennies - peanuts, but that’s what you get when you hire monkeys.

A moon faced born again ding dong chanted Hari Krishna hip hop style. His hands spasmed before him, signing in ancient Indian semaphore to stay away. The innocent were herded and fleeced in a revolving strip show of brutality, horror and vice. Layers of degradation and corruption were being peeled for their delectation. Most of them would make it home, but some would end up with their teeth in somebody’s necklace. The rest were just hamburger meat.

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