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.