they locked the office door and walked down the steps together. when they walked outside the sun was up and looking good. you could see through the thin skirts of the women. you could almost see their bones. death and rot was everywhere. it was Los Angeles, near 7th and Broadway, the inter- section where the dead snubbed the dead and didn-t even know why it was a taught game like jumprope or dissecting frogs or pissing in the mailbox or jacking-off your pet dog. we got plenty a nuthin-," they sang, "and nuthin-s plenty for we-" arm and arm they made the underground garage, found Bag-s 69 Caddy, got in, each lit a dollar cigar, Dan driving, got it out of there, almost hit a bum coming out of Pershing Square, turned West toward the freeway, toward freedom, Vietnam, the army, fucking large areas of grass and nude statues and French wine, Beverly Hills- Bagley leaned over and ran down Danforth-s zipper as he drove. I hope he leaves some for his wife, Danforth thought.