"Das right! DIE STOOCK SCHIESSE!!!" His German was as fake as my driver's license. I shook left and he vibrated right as we dueled it out in the deep green shadows of a San Francisco morning. Bullets whined into the atmosphere like corkscrewing bits of cosmos in a particle accelerator as we emptied round after round at our meat targets. Our chests heaved as sweat swirled around us in a warm spray. Our rods emptied, I grabbed a trashcan lid and he lit up a 6" blade. His first strike screamed across the metal as I delivered a glance of knuckle across his left. His second swing met with empty air as I danced backwards and recovered. He crept forward for another try as I grabbed a stick. He stabbed, I poked. I swung, he sliced. I clobbered, he fell onto the wet sweat-soaked pavement as his razor skipped away and I stood over him like a puppy with a chew toy.

"Let's see you try something like that again." So she did. She pulled close and delivered a sucker-punch to my lips. My tongue swam in saliva as she raced her fingers trough my threads. We stood there like a damn dirty ape on the Statue Of Liberty. The crowd oozed around our willing bodies like tar around a sinking lizard. It was prehistory all over again and I had to make the five-thirty back to New York. You could have heard a pin drop in a felt factory when I turned and walked away...