No, the real fun came riding the Orange Line (read: the po' nigga ghetto line for you never-been-to-Bostons). Now here began the good stuff. The only slack I got on the Red Line was from the cops and frat boys who are only brave in groups. Folks who are bragging to each other about somebody they just mugged and are clearly over six feet tall and tweeking on crystal to the left of me, gang colors to my right, a whole car full oare a NOTHER story altogether. Hoo-ahh! No fear!
And then I get off the train at Back Bay and there's a girl standing on the platform and she sees my white mask of death and my murderer's stride and she looks me right in my mad bloodshot eye and she SMILES just the right way and my third nostril almost SNEEZES but I can't speak, my lungs are spasming so I keep on walkin (one of the cops looks at me and I shake my head no) and I get to the impaling thing and turn around and she's lighting a cigarette under the $200 dollar fine for smoking sign and I go through the impaling thing and I sigh and the slack rushes up and down and I take the mask off and shut my eyes. Aaaaahhhh.
So I didn't have the nerve after that bit to keep wearin the thing for my coming walk through the projects cause there was so much slack I could hardly stay on the sidewalk (the shit HURTS, I'm telling you) but I STILL GOT THE MASK!!
Yours in razrez, blurp blurp,
Agsts "under the bright mask of Koothoo-looloo I stood alight" QPM