’ Henry shouted. ‘Fucking bullshit cocksucking drug addict cop stealing assholes.’ Detective had taken his name, and had been remarkably friendl.... Henry was wary. He saw himself back in Nam. Henry cursed. When would he make money? He searched for bricks to make certain the cab didn’t roll. He cursed the shit kicking garbage as he walked the perimeter protecting his ass from some crazed crank head coker or a frisky cop. He knew that when he changed the tire, he disturbed the universe. Henry. As promised, the unoccupied areas of well-groomed grass between the rows wide causeways of hard packed earth were decorated with papier-m∞ch≠ tombstones and a few of the concession stands looked like mausoleums and crypts. Those same stands sold the obligatory over-priced festival food, consisting mostly of fast food with Halloween themed names. Misty was afraid to ask about the allegedly vat grown hamburgers at one place called "The Darkened Kitchen". She especially didn't want to. More

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