Now the gawky kid, a mutant graduate
From the game-zone parlours of virtual death
Was really called The Electric Warrior
By his few friends on the claybound earth
Who feared and admired his acid play -
He flexed a finger at Stumpy's brow …

You think I'm a hoon with lowbrow tastes,
He rasped between sucks on the straw,
You think that I gossip on CB bands
With those brain-dead yobs of the tar;
But tell me this, and his glance grew sharp,
What sort of a deal can we cut?

previous | next page               index page