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    "Your friends are pretty Mr. T, Nan," Liz says, letting one of the skinheads’ hands reach around her dimpled thigh.  "But I was expecting another punk band."
    Nan punches the zit-bearded skinhead, just for looking at her.  "Yeah, they suck, but they’d rather have everyone hate them.  I think that’s the point of being in a noise band."
    Zit Beard doesn’t leave, finding Nan’s violent reactions arousing.  He snuggles her shoulder and she punches him in his tits.  A smile cats up on his BIG red face, and he does it again, whisper-caressing her stomach this time – not because he wants to turn her on, but because he wants her to punch him again, hopefully harder.  She elbows him in the neck.  Very stimulating.
    "Have you seen Gin lately, Liz?" Nan asks, elbowing Zit Beard once more for a diversion, accepting the fact that administering pain to someone other than herself is a rather enjoyable performance. 
    But Liz finds the act of allowing a blubber-filled shirtless skinhead rub his hand all over the insides of her clothes a more enjoyable performance.  She forgets to reply to Nan’s question among all the fat-sweaty sensuality.  Instead, she asks another question: "When do you want me to return that Hertzan Chimera book?  I haven’t finished it, but I don’t think I’ll be able to."
    "What about Gin?" Nan asks.
    "What?"
    "Gin.  Have you seen him?"
    "I think he went on a beer run with Lenny and the guy from the first band."
    "Thanks."  Nan gets up, kicking Zit Beard on the way, and scuffling into a round-a-go crowd.

    I appear on stage – swirl-swirl goes the crowd and the color-blooming makes my eyes sizzle – with my cello and my T-shirt that reads Battlestar Galactica 4 Life .  I play a short slimy cello solo and then the song curdles into a blur of discord before it ends.
    The crowd does not seem to notice we are here.
    Vodka leaps from the toilet, stampers onto the stage, into our faces.  "I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO MY BAGPIPE SOLO AFTER THE CELLO INTRO," he screams, though his scream is non-exclamatory because of his anti-emotional attitude.  He shoves Christian, thrashes the sheet metal, and rammer-runs through the warehouse, but his movements still seem robot-like.
    The crowd doesn’t seem to notice Vodka’s outrage.
    "This is our last song," Christian says to the crowd.  "It’s called The Greatest American Hero Theme Song ."
    We play some gak-shrilling noises and squeal, but it sounds nothing like the original theme song.  Before the music ends, we are kicked off of our own stage by a band of five skinheads.  The singer (Zit Beard) takes the mic from Christian, pushing him into the crowd who beat him up cruel.  Zit Beard spits on the crowd and everyone cheers.
    In other words: ZIT BEARD = PUNK.
    "We’re the Oi!s," says Zit Beard.  "Our first song is about smashing capitalism and breaking fascism and stomping religion and destroying all the governments of the world.  It’s called PUNK ROCK!"
    This is what he sings:
    "PUNK ROCK!  PUNK ROCK!  OI!  OI!  OI!"
    The punk kids are into songs like this.  They cheer and jump and punch each other until the song ends half a minute later. 
    "Thanks," he says.  "Our next song is called ANARCHY!"

    Nan gets herself outside to find Gin, but there is no Gin.  She meets someone named Lenny instead, scurries over to him, stepping over a flattened little Abraham Lincoln hat.
    She calls, "Lenny!"
    He mopes around, all drunk and finished, was puking in the back lot, wiping some yellow off his chin.  Lenny is a thin little guy, antsy stickman, so it didn’t take much beer to make him vomity drunk.  He wears old lady glasses and a shirt that says, Kiss me, I’m Yugoslavian . 
    "Where’s Gin?" she asks him.  "Liz said he went with you."
    "Oh yeah," his voice cracks in a drunken sort of way, "Gin told me to tell you he’ll be at Stag’s place.  I would’ve gone with them, but they wanted to stop off at Satan Burger, and . . . I’m