"She pours a thin stream of gasoline along the perimeter of the corner storefront at the intersection of E & 13th Streets, near Metro Center. The young woman tipping the red plastic gas can is having a birthday, and at 5:27 p.m. E.S.T. precisely, she will turn 30. (For the next two and a half minutes, however, she is still 29). In honor of the occasion, she is wearing shiny black ankle strap shoes and an extra short skirt, black and magnificently immodest. She wears these things so that people will notice her. Men particularly."
"So there's me and this zombie, right? Nuthink more to say than that. We was in this transport cafe, or wot you'd call a transport cafe 'cept it was more of a non-transport cafe, the only punters being me and the undead. I say me and the undead, 'cept it seems more like manners to say 'the undead and I'. Well thats not me, see? I'm rough as they come I am. Not as rough as the zombie though. 'is eye had just fallen in me cuppa tea."
"I was off to Los Angeles to see my sister and also some gal that drinks too much and sleeps around. I'm going to see that one first, rather than my sister who doesn't even know I'm coming. The girl, my love interest, met me at the airport and due to my fear of flying I was already intoxicated and dangerously close to an overdose of airsickness pills. Too much of these both and I knew I was going to be of no use to her. She'd wanted to go out, already had a babysitter, but I'd just rather pass out at her place in Burbank. "You're useless," she verified. "
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