Perhaps it was the fudge or the twenty beers you had at your bosses wake. Never the less you see a dark alley open up and you want to bottle neck your self out of your cloths. A few friends join you its what friends do for eachother after a funeral. The streets are dull and the gas lites are only monuments left from the days we crawled out and walked back in our caves. A misquito breaks curfew and seduces the skin on your neck. But it feels more and more insane like wearing a tuxedo to the gym to avoid playing racket ball with your dead boss. You think for a moment and have seizure on in the cab of your friends chevy. Your eyes roll back and for a moment youve felt the blinding dance of not knowing what will happen next.