There we were, in the middle of New York City, underneath a constantly falling puddle of cool New York rain. The streets were empty, and our destination was lost somewhere in the jumble of streets, avenues, and roads. We traveled down such streets as Avenue of the Strongest, and Crucified Goat Street, before the urge to play a wicked game of crossfire behind a bronze lion overtook us. Our urine freed, the lion even wetter now, we found our meeting place, and “The Friend.”
    He was sitting as far back in the room as possible, surrounded by scantily clad men and women shouting nothings into a microphone. Sitting with “The Friend” was a midget, who was not a part of the original deal. He was wearing a poncho (but not a rain-repelling poncho… the Mexican kind, with Aztec designs) and an oversized sombrero. The midget could not hear, but had an understanding with “The Friend”, as he showed by sticking out his tiny hand. “The Friend” placed a lit cigarette in the hand, and the midget laughed with approval. He checked out.
    Then we met the old Asian man, who was wearing a red baseball cap and shouting yelps of ecstasy and liquor. One of our men took his hat, readjusted it to his liking, fed him more drink, and sent him away. Then he grabbed me and threw me into the air, until my head became a part of the ceiling. After releasing myself from the ceiling, we were sent away again, into the still-empty streets of New York. The city spun around, as if inside a slowly running blender, the stars flying out of its top. And with us near the bottom, about to chopped up with the rest of the city.

THE END