She’s fucking the cop dig? Or, he is raping her, one or the other. We stand at the back window with our mouths hanging open, low smiles playing on our lips. I still have drugs in my sock. I realize it is going to be a long night.
“Are they fucking?” I ask. I could plainly see that the Man in Black was humping her righteously, and she must have been enjoying it because there was no struggle. We had been moving across the alley toward a parking lot, and the drugs were in my sock. Like, why did I have to carry ‘em? But I guess that’s the way it goes when you’re young and in love.
Me and the Tall Boy decided to make a run for it. Hell, the cop might not even be human. He got out of his cruiser, and we were standing there about to piss our pants, and he reels around like he is drunk and can barely breathe. Maybe he is one of the Men in Black. I have read John Keel. I have read The Mothman Prophecies, and Operation: Trojan Horse, and The EighthTower, and Our Haunted Planet, and Disneyland of the Gods. They were all righteous books. I could dig that the Men in Black and other flying saucer creeps are said to stumble around like drunkies and be unable to breathe Earth air easily. Not human. That was it. This cop was a fucking flying saucer creep.
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