She was most likely dead. "She had curly hair. She and my mother used to fight over combing out her hair all the time. She'd end up bawling, half bald... every time she washed her hair. Until I realised I could help." He prodded me until I turned and sat with my back to him, and he knelt behind me. I closed my eyes, humming in pleasure as he used his deft fingers to pick out the snarls, smoothing my waves. There was something so intimate, so familiar in that touch, I found myself longing for .... I had to go.” “Don’t touch me,” Camel said, pushing Killer away from him. “That’s it, we’re out of here. Find your own way home, pal. And don’t be calling me for any more weed either!” “What... what do you mean?” Camel slammed his car door shut and said to me, “Let’s go, Keaton. Fuck this dude!” I hammered the accelerator and left Killer in the red glow of the tail lights, his pathetic peter still dangling out of his fly and his clothes soiled. More

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