Midnight Horror Show
Three teenage boys in letter jackets were standing up in the bed howling and laughing.
“Ah, the vigor of youth,” said Graham, smiling wanly. “Just letting off some steam before the big game, I’m sure.”
The truck passed an alley and then slammed on the brakes. Someone in the shadows had caught their attention. They backed up and the boys started chanting “FAG-OT! FAG-OT! FAG-OT!” at the darkness. One threw an empty can into the alley, and the others howled with laughter.
“Sweet kids,” I said, as they squealed off.
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