_Did you ever notice how sometimes at night you can be walking along the sidewalk in a sleepy-mooned midwestern town, maybe freshly off the platform, just outside the depot, and see some people ahead, but not be sure, at least at first, sometimes for quite longer than you might have expected, whether they are coming towards you, or walking in the same direction as you?_ _It is exactly that kind of night, in that kind of town, when HIM and ME are stopped in a laundromat, glazed with light, buttery warm inside out of the rain. The only other life form big enough to notice is a burly laundromat attendant._ ME: _[watching their red pants and white socks and everything spinning]_ I am so glad we found this place. And to think I still had quarters left. HIM: _[stage-whispering]_ Don’t make any sudden moves, but . . . I think . . . . _[eyeing sideways with his head straight forward]_ ME: What, man? WHAT? What is the matter with you? HIM: I think, _[suddenly switching to fullconfidence loud]_ THAT THAT LAUNDROMAT GUY OVER THERE IS THE CREEPIEST MAN I HAVE EVER LAID EYES UPON! ME: _[just as absurdly loud]_ OH YOU DO, DO YOU? _[swivels head to look; then, ridiculously loud]_ MY GOD YOU’RE RIGHT! LAUNDROMAT GUY: Don’t worry, boys. I’m not going to do anything to you. _[a hot pause]_ Tonight. _[a heavy pause]_ That you don’t actually want done. _[a cum-sucking butt-fucking pause] [a paisley pause] [a magazine pause] [an isn’t-_ _that-how-they-do-it-in-France pause] [a stop all this nonsense at once and be perfectly jaded, cacophonous, heroic and plain-old pause_ _pause]_