ers eyes widen in the mirror. "Are you on drugs or do you need drugs?"
"Theres a naked, burned man walking down the street. No, not burned. Cooked. Glazed and cooked like a ham. Theres a swarm of little sort of bat things flying around him taking bites. He doesnt seem to mind. "
"Im letting you out at the corner, guy. "
"Keep going or you dont get your tip. "
Barry shook his head. "Keep it. Getting stabbed by some psycho fuck isnt worth twenty dollars. "
"Do I seem like a psycho to you, Barry?" asked Spyder.
"I dunno. Sure talk like one. "
"I understand. This is weird for me, too. "
"Then maybe you just want to be quiet and not talk about it anymore," Barry said. "Anyway, were almost to your drop. "
"Do you see that building on the corner? I cant tell what its made of. Its like pink quartz, but the walls are shifting like the whole thing is liquid," said Spyder.
"Its a vacant lot, man. "
"Maybe Im just dreaming. "
"If its a dream, you can give me a fifty dollar tip instead of twenty. "
Spyder smiled. "Or I could stab you in the head, suck out your eyes and skull fuck you. I mean, if this is just a dream. "
The cab screeched to a stop. "Get out. "
"Let me get my money," said Spyder.
Barry turned around to face him. He had a lime green windbreaker draped over his arm to hide the old Browning . 45 automatic he was holding. "Get the fuck out. "
"Jesus, Barry. Tell me thats not your daddys gun," said Spyder. "Pretty Freudian, dont you think?" The cabbies eyes narrowed. "Im kidding, man.
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