Chapter 8
SEPTEMBER 1995: “Huh… Huh… Huh… Huh… Huh…” Freshman year of Wall High School. Cousin Myra had graduated the year before. She had not put the word out for me; talked to the Juniors (now Seniors) below her; the “jock and cheerleader crowd” elites who looked up to her. She had neglected to wax-stamp a royal letter of introduction to a cornucopia of preppy pussy; had not scanned my Wonka Golden Ticket to the exalted ranks of microcosmic fame and fortune. Though a “look out for him” or “do not fuck with him” or “make sure nobody fucks with him” order would have been enough, especially in such a prison-like environment. “Huh… Huh… Huh… Huh… Huh…” “Like a twister I was born to walk alone…” Whitesnake is bland and overplayed. “Huh… Huh… Huh… Huh… Huh…” I never breathed, but only hyperventilated. I never perspired but dripped the sweat of a savage, the last member of an uncontacted Amazonian tribe, a Neolithi...