I peeled off the sweatshirt and Smith got out of the gei, so we sat there, me in my colorful board shorts, Clarke in a white martial-arts uniform and black belt, Smith in a black Speedo, and Jason in his black muscle-T.
Every once in a while a girl has to stop brooding over gender injustice, start thinking about sexual revenge, and slip into her thigh-highs and stiletto heels to lure a few dopes to destruction.
Petrovitch scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Could never grow a proper beard. Now, Archie's? That was serious beardage. […]
rethinkings of the capitalist system
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