“I could tell you kinky tales. Tales that will shock; tales that will delight."

epub or mobi, with thanks to the original sharer

We found Rock Bottom and Blank Frank outside the Spotlight bar on Selma and Ivar. Dudes would piss right at the bar at the Spotlight; they’d rape each other in the back room. This is not hyperbole. Rock Bottom had on his creaky leather bomber jacket and black wraparound shades. With his spiked green hair, he looked like a Halloween punk rocker—like some Valley kid who had dressed up in clichés. The thing is, Rock Bottom had originated the clichés. The look was his. All you needed to do was lift those wraparound shades and glance into his eyes. Crazy people on the street would cross eyes with Rock and straighten right up. Rock Bottom owned that feral nihilist shtick, legitimately. Blank Frank was understated—pale makeup, kitchen-sink bleach job, classic black Ray-Ban sunglasses, tight, thrift-store gigolo suit. Rock filled us in: They’d started a band, or revived a defunct group, or had plans to do both. Until the music paid off, Frank was hustling, and Rock Bottom was dealing PCP. They tagged along with the wife and me, trolling for shoplifting opportunities, but soon gave that up. Shop owners were blocking their doors at the sight of us.