“Junkout!” shouted the fat biker man on his gleaming, chromed-out machine as Mister Jackson took a five dollar bill from the gay white man with the weird pencil-beard and driving the nice red Saab.
He stepped back up on the curb holding up his fist of power as he pocketed his crumpled up five—no, he’d have to pull his pants up from around his ankles to g…