HIM:How hard did you have to work to get your hair like that? ME: Well, it wasn’t easy. HIM:What’s the point? ME: The point is a fantastic mythical creature created in the 17th century by insecure geometricians. HIM:I don’t even have to say you’re full of shit anymore. _Two blocks away, someone is stabbed to death on the stairs in front of her apartment. Her attacker runs away and is eventually tackled from behind by a devil monkey with yellow eyes who sups on all the hate in him, gets drunk on all the love 7in the blood on his hands. A sign in the window of a corner pub blinks, “LIVE EVIL.” The murderer’s corpse is found the next morning by some guy who is still drunk, stumbling toward the bus. The body is later identified as someone very famous, or at least someone you know, or at least someone you have heard of._ ME: What the hell was that all about? HIM:Some kind of experiment, I think. _HIM drives ME to work, because ME has to go to work, which is a real buzz kill of course, but he’ll be back. On the way, they pick up a newspaper but neither of them reads it._