tribe

The first thing we did we made sure Hammy couldn't make it there, you can't give much anything to Hammy, he's one of those whimpery simpery leaky types who the doc must have forgot to cut his cord. Munga gave him bad directions, though - took care of that.

I got off with almost a whole pack of Lucky Strikes from the apartment nextdoor. When he came over to fuck the babysitter Mr. Rizzo left his door unlocked, so I just ducked right in and took them up off his coffeetable, it was half under a stack of poem books but it only took me a couple minutes to romance it out. But when I did I knocked over the Chinese takeout box sitting there as an ashtray, it looked like at least, it spilled Black and Mild wrappers and sweet and sour sauce all over but the place still looked mostly the same so I'm not worried. We used Kittychop's lighter and smoked them in the clubhouse.

I told how there was a couple switchblades out on the coffeetable too, a very shivery-good Mexican picklock long as my hand, and maybe a trapdoor stiletto I thought that it was, and Irv said I should have taken one of those too. Kittychop said forget that, I should have taken the both, so the one couldn't turn around at me later to try and get the first one back. Munga said fuck that, weren't good smokes good enough? and that the both of them, Irv and Kittychop, needed to stop thinking like spiccing sandmonkey kleptos before they got the turn-out-your-pockets out there somewhere. They were probably wondering what klepto meant so they didn't say anything. Munga the brains of us, he knows things like that. When we ask too much about what he means with some of what he says he professors up some other thing to say we don't know, like mongoloid philistine zipperheads or nigger-noggin bourgeoisie. Sure wish I'd taken that Mexican picklock.

Tut doesn't talk much since his head doesn't line up very right. When he was younger he tried clearing out for his aunt's place in the suburbs and got as far as his fire escape when he fell and busted his jaw in three spots, it healed up all wrong. Next to Munga he's probably the smartest of us. Once what he did was steal a bunch of Colt 45 from the grocery store, what he did was take some clear packing tape and one of those cardboard 12-pack boxes of Coca-Cola, and two six packs of Colt 45, then Tut tore open the box of Coke and took out all the cans and tore off the plastic on the 45s and piled the cans in there and taped it all up. Irv and me were there with him. We almost got caught. Tut went up to go buy the Coke box, since if he slunk around too long he'd get suspicious. So me and Irv slid in behind him nice and tidy to hide up the cans. We had just started hiding them behind the Wheaties boxes and granola when someone came up around the aisle, but me and Irv still had armsful of the stuff. So Irv shoved me over with his free hand at the end of the aisle, right there were some big Hefty garbage bins or something like that to hide up behind. Irv shoved a hand over my mouth and whispered nice and icy if I give us away he will snap my fucking neck like a candycane. Don't think for a second I take that sort of thing. I shoved his hand off and whispered fuck you, zipperhead, before I run your twiggy dick through a bandsaw. Irv took one of the cans and came down like he was playing Whack-a-Mole with it right in my eye and holy shit did that hurt. I dropped all my Coke and grabbed for his ears, I ended up only getting his shirt and the side of his hair but I still managed to headbutt the shape out of his nose. And then believe me we were into it.

The guy at the end of the aisle comes up, he's the manager it turns out, and sees me and Irv going de la Hoya all over each other. We stop, and we all look at each other. He stood there looking at the cans of Coke rolling on the floor and us two looking up at him and he said "What the hell are you kids doing?" and had us put the cans back in the soda aisle. Then he told us to go home. We met up with Tut two corners down and drank some of the 45s on the way to the clubhouse.

Tut's been doing research and figured out how to do tattoos himself, he's got his dad's calligraphy pen grinded up to a point and India ink. Kittychop said he will trade a pair of panties he stole from some blonde fox's laundry for a picture of the Playboy bunny on his arm. Tut snorts because we all know Kittychop just stole them from his sister but Tut draws it for him anyway. Irv got some Popov vodka from somewhere and we all have some to keep the sting down. And to disinfect, Munga says, while Tut is drawing him up a big roaring lion on his back. I don't know if maybe Munga was moving around too much or if maybe Tut just wasn't as good with a pen as his dad, or what, but it didn't look like any lion I've ever seen.