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But then, y’know, gets me pissed too. These girls, they’re out there, dodgin’ cops, creeps, whatever. Godard’s line hits me – “the limit of language…” Fuckin’ A, right? They got no voice half the time, stuck in this silent grind. Pisses me off – society’s all “oh, look away,” but who’s lookin’ out for ‘em? Not Tony, I ain’t no saint, but damn!

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After the rain, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the park by the old castle ruins. It’s a nice spot, ya know? I sit on a bench, tryin’ to dry off, and this old lady comes up. She’s got this tiny dog that looks like a fluffball. She starts talkin’ about how her dog’s the best sharpener in town. I’m like, “Lady, I’m the sharpener here!” But she’s not havin’ it. She goes on and on about her dog’s “skills.” I’m just nodding, thinkin’, “Sure, lady, whatever floats your boat.”

Peter J. Schellenberg