Transcription

I don't remember all of it. I was sitting outside at a table. It felt a little like the patio area of AJ's, but there were important differences. I was reading. At one point, I went inside. Instead of a supermarket, there was a small, densely-packed shop. It might have been an ice cream parlor. tommix was there. He pointed to the many young people wearing long, glittery red tunics with those really old, felt, iron-on letters spelling out names across the back. "Those are our uniforms," he explained, even though he wasn't wearing one.

Later, I was back on the patio. The media was present. A crowd surged towards me from behind. Randy Graf, the Republican congressional candidate for our district this past year, was giving a speech. As his entourage headed inside, a reporter asked me my opinion of him. "He's actually smarter than people think," I replied, not because I believed it, but because I always say that about conservatives. At this point I remembered that I'd been covering up the book I was reading. I lifted my hands and looked down. It was one of those RE/Search titles. A list of categories played across the front. The only word I could make out clearly was "faggots."